


The Price of Vengeance

by GinaMarie



Series: Lord Kalvan of Otherwhen [2]
Category: Kalvan Series - Various Authors
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-03 03:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 114,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8695477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinaMarie/pseuds/GinaMarie
Summary: The people of Mexico had been horribly betrayed and a civilization that had been built over a thousand years perished in a few days. Now the survivors cry out for vengeance, and their cries are heeded even by former enemies. But there is more at stake than Mexico -- it is obvious their enemies want to destroy everyone else who will not submit to the slave yoke.This is the third book of the series.





	1. Scout Report

I

His highness, the Duke of Mexico, stood at one of the corner turrets of his palace, staring towards the north northwest, ignoring the setting sun much further to the south. Once upon a time his name had been William Tucker, and only a few of his friends called him “Tuck.” Now everyone did, and most did it on bended knee.

Five years ago today, he thought. Who would have believed it? Five years and a day ago he'd been a small rancher raising quarter horses north of Phoenix, Arizona. The next day he'd come here, to this place. He laughed to himself–well not to this exact place, but the place he was currently at. It was still hard to wrap his brain around the change.

There was no denying it–there had been a lot of water under the bridge since he and the five girls and one adult woman had arrived here.

Now another year had passed and Tuck was staring in the direction where they had appeared, musing about history.

He heard footsteps behind him and he turned.

His wife, Tanda Havra, was leading a party of two other Lost Ruthani. The older of the two was Pinyon, chief among the elders of the Lost Ruthani, the other was Leem, a Lost Ruthani scout in his early thirties. A very, very senior scout, the son of the Lion of the Lost Ruthani–one of those who’d killed the God-King and Leem was also Tuck’s wife’s adopted brother.

Leem was a study in contrasts. Technically, he was a sergeant in the army of Hostigos. He was also one of the paramount war leaders of the Lost Ruthani.

“Husband, Pinyon has come with Sergeant Leem with an important report,” Tanda said.

To Tuck's way of thinking, Tanda was overly formal in public–not that she was anything but very informal in private–still it was a small price to pay to be married to such a wonderful and unique person.

Tuck nodded at Pinyon. “Once again, Pinyon, you honor us with your presence.”

Pinyon made a rude noise. The Ruthani were never formal–except for Tanda Havra. Pinyon’s face was seamed with age, but his mind was as quick as ever.

“Duke Tuck, all men know the wisdom and courage of the Lady Judy.”

Tuck bobbed his head. “That is so, Pinyon.”

“You know many things; the High King knows many things, but Lady Judy has her own knowledge,” Pinyon continued.

“Indeed, she does,” Tuck said with an emphatic nod.

“I was much taken with her descriptions of what her brother does for your king. He is a soldier of the sea, a Marine, she calls him.”

“They are some of our fiercest warriors,” Tuck confirmed.

“She also speaks of others, scouts of the sea. She says they are called 'Seals' a kind of otter-like creature that lives in the great oceans.”

“They take only the toughest, fiercest Marines,” Tuck averred, knowing it wasn't entirely accurate, “and make them Seals, Pinyon.”

“And these men...they scout hostile lands, reaching them by boat and ship. They land, they scout and then return to report on what they have learned.”

“That is a large part of what they do,” Tuck agreed.

“I discussed this with the other elders and then with Leem. It seems to us that such people would be of use to the High King.”

“They would indeed, Pinyon.”

“I asked Leem to talk further with the Lady Judy, and then for him to talk to some of the fishermen in the former Mexicotál lands. The scouts have worked well together with the Mexicotál fishermen, Lord Duke.”

“That is good to hear,” Tuck said, clearly pleased. The Ruthani and Mexicotál had hated each other for millennia. That they could agree on anything was a big step forward. It had helped that for all of that time a few of the Mexicotál had escaped north and lived among the Ruthani as refugees and had been held in high regard.

It took a bit for the Lost Ruthani to realize that almost all of the Mexicotál were just like those who had come north for so long...innocent victims of a terrible tyranny. Since then relations had steadily improved.

“We have built some small boats, Lord Tuck,” Leem interjected. “They are capable of carrying three or five people, usually one scout and the rest rowers. We've practiced a lot and while rowing uses very different muscles than running, it isn't too bad. What was pleasing, though, was to find that swimming uses both sets of muscles–those for rowing and running. Swimming isn't as fast as running, but we can swim for hours and hours!”

Tuck nodded. “Tanda said you have a scout report.”

“Yes, Lord Tuck,” Leem told him. “We bought a fishing boat, and practiced on that, learning how to operate it. We put our best small boat aboard it and sailed south, looking like fishermen.

“We wanted to look at Xochitil, the port for Becal. Lady Judy calls this sort of thing a 'graduation exercise' and says such things are important.”

“They are,” Tuck agreed, wishing his young protégé wasn't nearly as good as she was. Graduation exercises in war zones were very dangerous.

“We sailed during the day to a spot about twenty-five miles from Xochitil, reaching there just as night fell. We put the small boat over the side with our four best rowers, and myself, our best swimmer. They rowed me to a spot a mile off shore, well before midnight.

“I swam close to shore, Lord Tuck. There was one of the ships from the west in port. I made my way to the stern, and rested on the rudder-thing. While I was there, I heard two of the scum talking. They had come out on a small balcony over the stern of the ship. The ship's captain was very angry with this officer of the God-King. The God-King’s man is Pharris, the garrison commander at Becal. The ship's captain is Locrimos.

“We know much about Pharris, but all we knew of Locrimos is that he comes every four moons from the west. He is taken in a covered coach from Xochitil to Becal and there presented to the viceroy. All we have ever heard was the man's name and he commands a ship from the West.

“It was a loud argument, Lord Tuck. They made no effort to lower their voices. I'm certain they had no idea there was anyone close.”

Tuck nodded. He trusted Leem; if he said he'd slipped in unseen, he had.

“You recall the fight two moon quarters ago?” Leem asked.

Tuck snorted. “I don't think we can fairly call that a fight. The Ruthani treated the soldiers of Becal very badly.”

“Aye, Lord Tuck,” Leem agreed. “One of their common soldiers came up to the line and pissed over it. One of our scouts promptly shot him dead. The dead soldier's sergeant called on the others in the squad to fire against our scout–so another of the scouts killed the sergeant.

“This has happened before; usually it stops there. Instead, their lieutenant ordered his men forward to attack our positions across the line. The rest of our men opened fire and drove them back.

“Your liaison told us that we could do as we wished. The patrol commander from Becal was about a mile back, standing on a small hill with a view of the action. He had a half dozen guards.

“Our scouts moved a few hundred yards and opened fire from another direction, killing and wounding more of their soldiers. It was a very sharp action; all of the guards were in the fight. It took them almost a half finger's width for someone to notice that we had slit their commander's throat, ear to ear.” Leem grinned and made a throat-cutting gesture.

“Their second-in-command ordered a prompt withdrawal, leaving their dead on the field. We let them go.”

“That was good work,” Tuck told him, “and I said so at the time.”

Leem bobbed his head. “The ship's captain, this Locrimos, was furious about it, though. He didn't care about any of the dead, nor how badly we had humiliated their soldiers. He was angry that the patrol commander had violated his orders to no longer cause trouble–instead he had called attention to the patrol.

“Pharris tried to reassure him, saying that all of the families of those who'd violated their orders had climbed the pyramid, to teach all that violating their orders would have terrible consequences.”

Tuck laughed bitterly. “And they wonder why they can't find good help!”

“Yes, Lord Tuck.

“At first, I didn't understand. We know that the ships from the west arrive empty at Xochitil, where they are filled with grain–enough, I'm told, to feed a thousand people for a year. They come once a moon, and have come since the plague.

“We never remarked that those ships arrive a moon quarter after the patrol leaves Becal, and depart before the patrol returns.

“This Locrimos said something then. 'The patrol's mission is too important for a junior officer to mess up.’ He wanted Pharris to send someone much more senior, one who wasn't going to make mistakes. Then Locrimos said that they would have to miss and I quote, 'the next delivery' because they couldn't afford to have Hostigos learn of it. He mentioned that it was stupid that Pharris couldn't control his own docks; that if they tried to land the cargo at Xochitil that the High King would know it within a moon quarter. Those were his very words, Lord Tuck.”

“What cargo?”

“I do not know for sure, Duke. Once upon a time the patrol would go north, with ten wagons filled with supplies. Now, they go north with fifty wagons. No one knows what the cargo is, only the most trusted of their people drive the wagons. But I've heard reports that the wagons go north heavy laden with rocks.”

“Rocks?” Tuck asked.

“Yes, Lord. Rocks. When they return they are also heavy laden, but something that isn't as bulky as rocks. And guarded by teams of four men per wagon. Going north they guard five of the wagons filled with rocks very heavily, but don’t keep a watch on the rest.”

Tuck caught his wife's eye. “If I were home, I know what this would be. Here–I'm thinking it's the same thing.”

“What would that be, Duke Tuck?” Tanda Havra asked.

“The wagons going north would be carrying quite a lot of gold. The ships would unload weapons in crates in exchange for the gold.” Tuck heaved a sigh. “All things considered, I'm concerned about what sort of weapons they are receiving that they don't want us to know about.”

Leem brightened. “If they unloaded at Xochitil, we would surely be able to peek in the crates. So, they are landing them well north; no one is concerned about the supply wagons of the regular patrol.” His face fell as he contemplated that he had been fooled.

“This Captain Locrimos said that he would see that there would be a gap in shipments, so that we would not be suspicious. Two, perhaps three moons. He was quite upset about how much that would affect their plans.”

Pinyon chuckled. “They are great planners, are they not, Lord Tuck? True, they can't find their own boots in the morning, but they have such wonderful plans!”

“In my army we used to say that we had to be lucky all of the time to prevent our enemies from striking a heavy blow, while they only had to be lucky once to strike such a blow,” Tuck stated.

Pinyon contemplated that. “That is so, Duke. But they pay dearly for each missed opportunity.”

“Our solution was to make our own luck, my friend. We gave them no chance to strike heavy blows. We hounded them whenever we could find them, and we sought them relentlessly.”

“We don't seem to be able to do that,” Pinyon lamented.

“Not yet, but every day we grow stronger.”

“And so do they, Lord Tuck,” Leem told him. “We have no idea what sort of weapons these might be.”

“I think we can safely say they will be bad news,” Tuck replied. “We will have to be extra careful.”

He thought for a moment. “Sergeant Leem, I want you to get with Lady Puma and assemble all of the known data on those patrols. I want scouts watching them every step of their way. I don't want them bothered unless they cross the line again. If they do that, don't mess around with killing privates, sergeants or lieutenants. I want the column leader dead a few heartbeats later. Leave his number two alive, but kill the rest of the officers.”

Leem bobbed his head. “As you command, so shall it be!”

“Leem...about the sea soldiers–the Marines. You may continue to train people. Please, you know too much of what we do, so I'm sorry, but you mustn't risk yourself that far forward in the future.”

Leem grinned and bobbed his head towards Tanda. “My no-blood sister hit me in the stomach, Lord Tuck! Very hard! She was quite firm about my place.” He rubbed his stomach. “She is a true daughter of our father, blood or not. She hits like Lady Judy uses her shovel!”

Leem cleared his throat. “What should the Seals do, Duke?”

Tuck switched to business-like in a flash. “While we need to learn when the next weapons shipment will be, it will be more important not to have the Seals discovered. I want the scouting patrols down to the border with Becal quietly reinforced. If any of the Becal patrols are provocative, kill all of the officers except the second in command. Make sure you report in detail on each patrol, even if you see nothing unusual; the more eyes we have on their activities, the more likely we’ll spot something out of place ahead of time.

“As for Seal practice, very quietly put some ashore in the northern reaches of Becal’s territory at night, and withdraw them before first light. Any clues to where they land those weapons will be welcome indeed.”

Leem beamed. “It shall be done!”

Tuck nodded gravely, watching as the others left. For a terrible moment he was back there, again. They called it Tarr-Dombra, after a fortress in old Hostigos. That battle had been fought before the main battle that had commenced on that nameless mountain. He didn’t want to hear what they called that mountain now.

The redoubt had been a carnal house with hundreds of bodies strewn about. Even as he watched, parties of volunteers were tossing the dead soldiers of the God-King into the nearest ravine.

The stench had been awful; the carnage terrible to behold. It wasn't until Gamelin had whispered in his ear that he'd known to look at the wounds of the dead. Judy Bondi, just a few days older than fourteen, had fought with a rifle, then a pistol, and when they were empty, a field shovel. He'd heard the stories that she'd killed fifty or sixty men with her shovel, even though most of those who'd survived in that chamber said, “a hundred, maybe more.” He was sure he'd counted significantly more than a hundred dead of shovel wounds, and by then a third of the dead had been disposed of.

He'd sent her back to the rear to rest; he sent all of the survivors back to rest. At the end he had stood at the most remarkable scene of the entire battle. In spite of the horror, in spite of being overrun, Lady Judy had found the time to move her dead and wounded to one side, and had protected them as best as she could.

Men from the Army of Mexico came to the site for days afterward, long after the bodies had been removed. Someone had put litters where the bodies had been placed, showing how they were arranged. One day Judy Bondi had been a valued and trusted officer, albeit junior. After that battle, old soldiers would salute her, and the younger ones bowed to her. The High King had given her the largest city in northern Mexico to rule–Tecpan.

Tuck smiled at the memory. The Mexicotál had been a patriarchal society. That hadn't survived Judy Bondi and her best friend, Lydia Valenzuela. They out-thought and out-maneuvered the patriarchs with ease. When the plague had swept Tecpan, sickening nearly everyone, she had been a pillar of strength, and afterwards none had cared–much less dared–to challenge her.

He returned to the here and now with a jerk. “Lady wife...” he started.

Tanda gave him a rude gesture. “You want me to talk to my former bosses.”

“I’m afraid so. It is my understanding that they barely tolerate strangers spreading the knowledge in their heads about how to make better weapons. Isn’t it supposed to be seriously illegal to actually to bring advanced weapons?”

“That is so.”

“I think that is what they are doing here. Your ex-boss should look into it.”

“I’ll send her a message. You understand that if I do this too many times I will say something I shouldn’t and you would be a widower?”

“I think she’s an honest woman who has mighty conflicts between what she thinks is right and what she thinks of as her duty. This is, I think, something that should concern her more than you or I.”

“I suspect you are right, husband. But it will only take one mistake on my part.”

“Then don’t make any mistakes,” Tuck said harshly.

“I am not the one responsible for their policies,” she said evenly. “I am as subject to them as you.”

“Then explain to Lady Dalla what a bad idea it would be if we suddenly found ourselves up against advanced weapons.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I’d do if I had the ability. I’ve said it before–I’d rather go into battle with by forward fire controller a few feet to my left. My air controller a few feet in the other direction, and a raft of aircraft and artillery on call.

“If the armies of Zacateca and the High King are called upon to fight advanced weapons, we’re going to suffer significant losses very quickly. I’ve been trying to train our people to be ready without telling them why.

“As bad as it is for us, I dread what would happen to our still-forming fleet if we have to fight against breech-loading cannon that can reach over the horizon.”

She bobbed her head. “I am just being foolish, Tuck. I was taught what to look for, when it came to advanced weapons. They said nothing about what those would mean. I’m not stupid: I do understand what they will mean to us, even so.”

“Judy is planning to go south and beat the pants off off the men of Becal; the Olmecha have even more plans to weaken their enemies. I need to alert her to be careful, and pass the word to the Olmecha.”

“We must do all we can to support her,” Tanda told him.

“Indeed so; she is an important factor to morale. I firmly believe that the plan she and General Cambon have hatched will work, at least once.”

“It will be hard on her husband.”

“It will,” the duke agreed. “But what choice do we have? We’ve done as best we can here and seem to have stopped the leaks. Gamelin’s staff though–they chatter like monkeys.”

“Monkeys can talk?” his wife asked with a straight face.

Tuck laughed. “I’m pretty sure they do.”

II

Freidal, King of Zarthan, stood on the parapet of his citadel and waved to the crowd assembled to hear him speak.

“People of Zarthan,” he bellered at the crowd. He mentally sniffed, tomorrow he was going to be hoarse.

“I am here today to report that we are making significant progress in our projects. In the harbor, where you all can see, is a warship like those the High King builds. It carries forty-two cannon and can sail into the wind.

“Across our bay, the first steam puller road is complete to River City. You can purchase a ticket for a few fennigs, leave in the morning shortly after cockcrow and arrive in River City while the sun is still in the sky. Try that on a horse! And the next day, you could ride back, if you want to travel faster than a horse!

“We have battled back against our enemies, and we will keep after them until they scream for mercy!”

The crowd shouted blood-thirstily.

Their king sighed when the shouts were the loudest, so no one could hear him. His wife was standing at his side squeezed his arm in comradeship. He glanced at her, smiled, and then turned back to the crowd.

“We shall overcome! We shall defeat the enemies of Zarthan, utterly and completely!”

He waved again and stepped back. There was a change of tone from the crowd. Rage, pure hatred. There was a swirl as they took justice into their own hands. Someone had tried to raise a weapon against their king, and had been killed before he could even level his weapon, much less fire.

Freidal had been intent on making a short speech, but he shook off his wife’s restraining arm. “There you see it! Our enemies prefer poison, back blows, and shots in the dark. They are not true men willing to face their opponents in the Court of Galzar! Cowards, they are base cowards!”

Later, the senior nobles of the realm were gathered in the Presence Chamber. There was not only the king and queen, but the king’s younger sister, Alros, and her husband, General Denethon, and Count Xitki Quillan, the number two man in the kingdom.

“I hate having to kill my people,” Freidal lamented.

“You didn’t kill whoever that was...they tried to draw a weapon in a loyal crowd of your supporters. He made his choice,” Queen Elspeth said.

“The queen is right,” Count Quillan told the young king.

“Denethon had a choice when he delivered his message,” Freidal parried.

Denethon shook his head. “I knew if I moved, the spell would break. I knew what I was supposed to say and delivered it; it seemed important.”

“You said something important out there, Frei,” Elspeth said. “I’ve heard from Countess Judy. Before the Mexicotál would attack they would repeat the mantra ‘Never Again.’ In my own world, a downtrodden group of people voiced a similar sentiment–‘We Shall Overcome.’ Those became rallying cries of great power in my home...as has ‘Never Again!’ become to the Mexicotál.

“There is much resistance among the common people to changing the usual order of things. It is natural, and we shouldn’t stand in their way. At least not obviously.”

Count Quillan spoke out, “Sire, it is true. The former slaves and serfs are terrified that you will change your mind about their freedom, and if not you, then one of your progeny. They don’t understand that things given can’t be easily taken away. It might be useful to mention, ‘Never Again!’ in your next speech. And ‘We will overcome!’ should be a rallying cry for Zarthan’s resistance to the tyranny of those who demand it.”

The king sighed again. “I will ponder this. In the meantime, my wife will give me an earful of what to do.”

“A few times, sire, you have been slow to address Queen Elspeth’s concerns. Reflect on how those events unfolded,” the count said most clearly.

“Why is it I always lose the argument?” Freidal lamented.

Elspeth grinned. “Perhaps we should go up to the royal bedchamber and I will remind you.”

Freidal blushed, then took hold of himself. “You will have to excuse Elspeth and I...we have matters of state to discuss.”

He ignored the laughter that followed him into the corridor outside the throne room.


	2. The Countess and the Nighthawk

I

Noia, Admiral of the Western Ocean, Countess of North Port, walked the length of the pier, her destination in clear sight, with her entourage following on her heels. None of those with her had been told more than “We sail tonight for North Port.” 

A guard stepped forward and blocked her path. “Your business?” He was brusque, but wary as well. Not many wore armor these days, and even so, he knew quality when he saw it.

The countess waved airily in the direction of a ship alongside the pier. “We're bound for that ship. We take passage on her tonight.”

“Ma'am, no ship is permitted to sail at night.”

The man standing next to the countess chuckled. “Soldier, look at me and tell me who you see.”

He was wearing a plain mail shirt and carried a rifle on his back. He had a cloth cape that had been pulled up so as to obscure his face. The guard bent closer and then started. “Sire...”

“This ship will sail when and where it pleases from this day forward. Be sure you tell your officer that.”

“Yes, sire! As you command, so shall I obey!”

His king turned to the woman in the far fancier armor. “Stay safe, Countess.”

“You too, sire.”

He saluted her, and turned to go back the way they'd come, a half dozen guards around him.

Countess Noia went the last little bit and walked up the ramp to the deck of her destination. She had no trouble recognizing the man she wanted to talk to. She stopped in front of him and studied him for a moment. It was easy to see when he recognized her. 

“I remember you,” the ship's captain whispered.

“And I remember you, Captain. Tell me, are you still interested in your heart’s desire?” the countess replied.

The ship's captain didn't hesitate. “Yes.”

“I asked you if you’d be willing to help me. Now I ask you a slightly different question, sir. Would you serve me?” the countess asked him.

“And you are who this time?”

“A captain in the navy of the High King; something else here in Zarthan.”

“Last time I saw you, you were something else yet again.”

“The last time you saw me, I rewarded you in the name of the king. So far as I know, he has kept his bargain, Captain. Then there was the first time...” she spoke in her lowest pitch voice, the one she had used when they first met.

“The person I remember had a deeper voice. Now you sound like a woman. Gelded, eh?”

The countess laughed, her voice far deeper than it had been a moment before. “I was Countess Noia of North Port then, and I’m Countess Noia of North Port now. Except in the beginning, I pretended to be Noius so that I might live to bring vengeance to my brother.”

The captain stared at her and then bowed his head. “I didn’t recognize you, Countess,” he said, his voice level, but taut with emotion.

“You weren’t supposed to,” she replied. “I have some questions for you. First, how soon can you be ready to put to sea?”

“Four palm widths, Countess. It would be dark then...” He saw her sardonic smile and remembered just why that would be so.

To confirm it, she said simply, “Slack water then, eh? A good time to sail.”

“A clear night, Lady Count. Clear enough so that the forts will see us. No ship may sail at night.”

“And I have permission from the king to sail as I wish. The forts won’t fire.”

“Well, then once we sail, where are we bound?”

“We go to North Port.”

“A howling wilderness. Lady, I swear, if I had any idea...”

“Captain, if any of us had a glimpse of the future, that future would only have come over our dead bodies. But we can’t see the future, and what happened, happened. I will bring North Port back, Captain.”

“Every single fishing boat was destroyed,” he reminded her.

“I don’t plan on building fishing boats. Have you been across the bay here, to see the ships building there?”

He grimaced. Supposedly, you weren’t permitted, on pain of death. “Yes,” he answered honestly.

“Would you like to command one such as those?”

He was glad that he had had a finger width to get used to the shock. “A ship like that?”

“Aye, forty-two cannon, three hundred men. Some of the most powerful ships on the Western Ocean.”

“Yes, Countess, I would very much like to command a ship like that!”

“There would be a few constraints on what you could do with her,” Noia told him with a grin. “No midnight landings on beaches to trade in smuggled goods. Of course, a landing party against a hostile shore–where you would take a quarter of the spoil for yourself and another quarter for your crew–you would be able to do that.”

“Against what enemy, Countess?”

“My oldest brother is one of the plotters against the king,” Noia told him bluntly. She waved westwards. “He went west. He’s out there someplace, thinking he’s safe. I want to seek him out and kill him. He has confederates, making common cause with his treason. Men that King Freidal and High King Kalvan would pay a pretty penny to see stood against a wall and shot. They and their supporters are to be treated as wolves are.”

“What Alcibydos did to North Port was an unspeakable crime! I’m not the most honest captain who ever sailed, but what he did was pure evil. Evil!”

“Indeed so, Captain. If you sign on with me, you would be a captain in the navy of King Freidal. An honest man, able to walk down the street without having to peer over your shoulder to see who might be coming after you. You could acknowledge your wife and family. And, Captain, the same would be true for all the men of your crew–no matter what has passed for them before.”

He fought tears. “Lady Countess, we are yours to command!”

“Good. I have a dozen men, and two dozen sealed chests. I want the chests stowed well above the water line. Once we’re out in the ocean, we’ll break one of those chests open and introduce your men to some of the High King’s finest weapons.”

“As you command, Lady Noia! We sail as soon as the sun is down and the water is slack!”

There was a stir next to the countess and a short, squat, extraordinarily ugly man stepped close to her. He delved into a bag he'd dropped at his feet and in a moment came up with a thick wad of paper. He rifled through it for a moment, then handed the top dozen sheets to the countess.

“And this is what, Phelen?” the countess asked, as she looked the lists over. Actually it had taken her only an instant to recognize the lists.

“This, Countess, is the material requirements to build one of the High King's ships. How much of that can we expect to find in North Port?”

Noia's face grew dark. “Not much.”

Phelen waved around them. “And what might this ship be carrying? It is riding high in the water.”

The captain spoke up. “Countess, we've only been in port less than a moon quarter. It takes, sometimes, as much as a moon, to find another cargo. The holds are empty.”

Phelen turned back to the countess. “Lady Countess, I know your heart bleeds for your people and the slightest delay hurts terribly. But you are sailing on an empty ship that could carry much of what you need, were the holds filled. Further, if I could be permitted to stay behind for a few days more, I could arrange other ships, other cargoes, to arrive in the next few moon quarters with more of your requirements. Countess, while your heart bleeds for your people, it burns with white hot rage when it comes to your brother and the vengeance you intend to visit upon him.

“Countess, give me two days and I will have this ship deep in the water with what you'll need to get started at once. Give me a moon quarter and I'll have ready two more ships this size prepared to go as soon as they are loaded.”

The Ruthani growled something that it took Noia a moment to understand. “Found a likely woman, eh, Phelen?”

Phelen stared blandly back at the Ruthani, without expression.

Noia laughed to herself. The two men weren't the best of friends, and probably would never be. They teased each other unmercifully, and Noia had come to realize that, friends or not, it was in good fun and served only to spur the other to give as good as he got.

Noia turned to the captain. “We will be delayed sailing for a few days. Phelen is my logistos. And, I might add, he is quite correct. As much as I want to see my people, I want to see my brother far more. Anything that hastens that is what I want. Can you assemble a cargo for this ship quickly, Phelen?”

“Yes, Countess. While you were with the king this afternoon, I was with the chief logistos of the king's navy. I had thought we would need a moon or so to get things set in North Port, then we could start receiving cargoes. The king has told his chief logistos that you have first claim for the next year on any material requirement for your ships. The logistos is unhappy, but then, he is not the king. What we need at North Port is a place to store the materials; we don’t need a fancy warehouse.”

The captain cleared his throat. “Countess, we could sail tonight if that's your wish. We would do better at this time of the year with a cargo. This is the moon of the spring storms and this ship rides much better with some weight in the hold.” He nodded at Phelen. “If your man can get us a cargo in two days, Countess, we would lose less than a day, not the two you would expect.”

Noia thought for a moment. “Do it, Phelen. Get us a cargo, as quick as you can. Stay until you can arrange a couple of more cargoes, then come when the first one sails. Oh, and Phelen–you're a married man now. I really do not want to hear how you got some baron's daughter pregnant again.”

“As the countess has undoubtedly noticed, I have been quite faithful and attentive to my duties. If I may have your leave, I'll get right on this.”

“You have my leave.” Phelen turned and hurried back the way they'd come.

“If we're going to be a while longer, Countess, perhaps you should return to your accommodations,” the captain said helpfully.

“They might be more comfortable, but your ship, Captain, is easier to defend. I will have a couple of my people join your watches.”

The captain looked uneasy. “They will think you don't trust them.”

Tanda Sa, the big Ruthani, growled. “It's not that we don't trust them. In fact, call them together at first light and we'll give them a special treat. Some of the High King's new weapons.” He waved at the men behind Noia. “In the High King's town of Kingston, Captain, a hundred and twenty Ruthani rebels attacked the town. They killed hundreds of people, including the town's count and their brigadier.

“Then they came against us,” he gestured at Noia's men, standing patiently. “All of them, against just us.” He waved at the man the captain had picked out as a sergeant. “Sergeant Trillium was hit by the second shot as assassins attempted to kill the two counts. Then, Captain, we here, just those you see, bellied down in the dirt and killed those Ruthani. Just us. About a dozen of the Ruthani escaped, but rest died there. We'll give your men the same weapons we used to do that. I'll imagine any offense they might take will be overcome with the High King's largesse.”

II

Jako Nighthawk of the Plains Ruthani paused for a moment along the low wall atop the Countess’ palace and adjusted his load. Behind him gongs were pounding, horns were sounding, sergeant’s whistles were blowing–clearly the Hostigi were upset that someone had slipped into the palace and had stolen weapons.

He’d wondered what quality of fighting men would let a woman barely husband-high lead them? They must not be real men! For sure the guards in the palace had been lax! He’d slipped in and out with ease! No one had seen him, he was sure...it was the weapons they’d missed.

He laughed silently to himself as he pulled his jerkin over the long rifle; one of those weapons that the Hostigi used to kill men at unbelievable distances. Six shots as fast as a man could pull the trigger!

The shorter weapon, the shotgun, he slung that over his right shoulder and the bag of ammunition he'd stolen went over his left. He shrugged, settling the load into place, then reached down and found the rope he'd tied to the wall in the place he'd snuck in.

With a silent laugh, he swung his thin, short frame over the wall and slid rapidly down the rope. It was the smallest detail to pull the loosing rope, untying the knot above. He stepped back, letting the tangles of rope fall a few feet in front of him. 

He bent over, dragging the rope in loose hanks, then stuffing the rope under a box placed earlier on the roof of the city administration building that he'd picked for his entry and escape. He had just finished hiding the rope from curious eyes when there was an odd series of pops from the sky. A heartbeat later, bright lights shown down over the roofs of the city. He froze in place, unmoving, pretending he was just another dark shape on the rooftop.

There were no shouts, no alarms, and no bullets winging his way. He counted to ten and moved slowly to a patch of darkness a few steps away. Then he flitted from one patch of darkness to another and then another. When the lights went out, he crossed quickly to another roof, and a hundred steps later a third.

He dropped lithely and silently into a dark alley, and sidled along one wall, until the alley ran into a dark lane. Again, he stayed dark and silent, moving like a ghost.

In two finger widths he moved another two hundred yards, scaled another roof, and stashed his takings in a tiny attic that looked like no one had been in it for decades. There too, he found a place of refuge. It was two palm widths before dawn. He would stay where he was until midnight, nearly a day away. Patience was a virtue to a Nighthawk.

He allowed his breathing to even out, commanding his muscles to relax. There was no way the Hostigi could find him now!

It wasn't much, but then the Plains Ruthani were not much these days either. They had long born the fight against those who had come to their country from the west, as they followed the rivers, going further east.

He sighed softly. He'd been fourteen, just a little too young to go on a raid with his father, a war band leader of the Plains Ruthani. His father and the band had returned, touting their victory. Jako hadn't understood. Thirty men had left, twenty-three returned. The raiding band brought back three wagons with unground grain, eighteen horses to draw the wagons, and five more horses that the raiders had trailed behind them on their return.

Jako hadn't thought it much of a victory. The grain would keep the village alive a month, but little more. The loss of the labor of seven men who could have worked through the winter was going to cost more than the raid had gained. He understood that sometimes raids turned out wrong–that was the nature of war and his people had been at war with the Zarthani and their kindred for thousand or more years.

Still, his father declared it a great victory, and he'd brought a barrel of decent ale back. The village had a big party that night, drinking too much, trying, Jako thought, to drown the memories of their failure.

He'd gotten his nickname early in his life–he slept during the day. He was comfortable prowling around at night, and people had gotten used to his strange comings and goings and no longer commented on them.

He'd walked the village palisade parapet, contemplating whether or not he should leave the village of his birth. It was a momentous decision, as he would never be allowed to return if he left. Some would think he was a coward; he wasn't, but he had the notion that he wanted to sell his life dearly, not toss it away for some sacks of grain and a barrel of beer.

As skilled as he was, he almost hadn't seen the intruders. In fact, he hadn't seen them in time. He'd caught the movement of a dark shadow moving behind a row of huts in the village. He looked carefully and saw a file of men sneaking stealthily towards the bonfire in the center of the village.

That had been warning enough. He hesitated only a few heartbeats before he dropped to the ground at the base of the palisade, just before men moving along the parapet would have seen him.

He'd moved quickly to a nearby watering trough and lowered himself into the water, not a moment too soon. There was a sudden slam of a musket volley, then screams and shouts of pain and terror.

He hardened his heart to what little he could hear; there was nothing he could have done except get killed himself.

It was over quickly, a finger width at the most. The village mounted no effective defense against their attackers. He took only a few quick peeks, and then the Hostigi raiders fired the village and he had to sink to the bottom of the trough to remain hidden.

The last thing he'd seen was Rain Dancer, his three-year-older sister, slung over the shoulder of a huge hulk of a man, the largest man Jako had ever seen. He'd gotten a fair look at him. Jako made a mental vow that if he ever saw the man again, only one of them would survive the meeting.

Now, years later, Jako huffed another sigh.

A woman’s voice spoke from the dark. “You sound like a horse! Didn't anyone ever teach you that if you want to hide, you have to be quiet?”

He froze, unsure who was out there; the voice was a woman's after all! He considered drawing his knife and lunging at her. Maybe, though, he might try a softer approach.

Then it was taken out of his hands.

“He can't possibly be hiding, Lady Puma! Not when a half dozen men followed him to this spot,” a male voice said.

“I led them,” the woman reminded the man.

“Aye, but we all followed the trail he left. A child could have followed that trail!”

The man’s voice went on, “Ruthani, I am going to count to three. You will come out of that cranny with your hands well above your head and where we can all see them. Or you will die there. Men! Ready!” the male voice said.

What followed was scary. There was a racket of sound. At least a half dozen weapons being cocked!

“If you're going to kill me, kill me, Hostigi piss-ant! I'll sell my life dearly!”

“Ruthani, there are a half dozen men you can't see around you, plus Lady Puma and myself. You won't sell your life dearly–you'll be giving it away. On the other hand, if I wanted you dead, you'd already be guesting with your ancestors. The High King, Duke Tuck and the countess can use men like you.”

“Once he takes a bath,” the woman's voice said.

Jako bristled at the insult, but the male voice said, “One!”

He was dead where he was, no doubt about it. Jako called, “I'm coming out!” and did as he'd been bid.

He stood his hands shoulder high, his palms facing outwards. For a heartbeat. Then someone lit a flare and he saw the man standing a few feet away from him.

With a scream of rage he hurled himself at the man, heedless of the risk, unconcerned and uncaring. Something happened to his legs and he couldn't keep his feet. He sprawled in the grit of the roof, stopping a good six feet short of his target. Something heavy landed on his back, and he felt the prick of a knife beneath his left shoulder blade.

A voice hissed in his ear. “I am Puma, daughter of the Lion of the Ruthani! My father, little man, hunted the big cats with his rifle.” The knife pressed a little harder. “I hunt them with my knife.”

Jako froze. If he tried to buck her off, that dagger would slide home. He lifted his head and spat in the direction of the Hostigi. “Kill me! One of us will not come down from this roof alive.”

“I don't think he likes you, Big,” another man said, emerging from the darkness. He was younger than the man who'd taken Jako's sister–and like all men, he was much smaller.

“I've never seen him before in my life, Captain.”

“Corporal Chartus, bind the man's feet. Andion and Gryax, loop binds on each hand. I don't want this one to escape.”

It took a few moments and Jako was hauled erect. One man had a loop around his throat, and two more held the bonds that tied his hands and legs together. Always, through the entire process, the knife had been pressed into the skin just behind his left shoulder, freezing him into impotence. He ground his teeth, but gradually reason overcame anger. He had to bide his time, to wait for a better time. Throwing away his life wouldn't avenge his sister!

There was one thing his mind focused on then and the rest of the world faded into insignificance.

“Tell me, Ruthani,” the second Hostigi officer asked, “why is it that you don't like Captain Mortar here? Perhaps you feel that the gods shorted you, somewhat, when it came to handing out height? Compared to Big Mortar, all of us came out short.”

Jako ignored the man's feeble attempt at humor, his eyes fixed on his target.

“Ruthani, think about something for a few heartbeats, assuming you actually have some gray matter between your ears. What is different about you than you would normally expect? If say, you'd caught a man thieving your weapons?”

Jako had long since stopped struggling, he had to lull them into thinking he'd surrendered.

“Lady Puma,” the officer told the woman Jako had yet to glimpse, “remind our guest what it is that sets him apart from most thieves in the night.”

Jako didn't see the blow, but he felt its effects. The woman had fists like sledgehammers. Her right hand slammed into the shotgun over his right shoulder, gouging it into his back, her other hand hit the rifle.

They'd left him with the weapons he'd stolen! Were they loaded? He'd be betting his life on a sloppy Hostigi soldier. He glanced around him. None of the men had lowered their pistols, and not one of them looked the least bit sloppy.

“Ruthani, you hate me, don't you?” Big Mortar asked of the prisoner. “Why is that? I'm a fair man; I just as soon not kill a man when I don't know the reason for it.”

“You stole my sister! I saw you! You trussed her up and carried her over your shoulder like a sack of grain! You sold her to the slavers!”

Big Mortar frowned. If he'd been fearsome before, now he was worse. Much worse.

“Ruthani, I have liberated woman–aye, and some men–from slavery. I've never sold anyone into slavery. If I knew anyone who had, they'd be dead. I've never stolen a woman. Not ever.”

“You lie! I saw you with my own eyes! You raided our village, killed the men and stole the women!”

The big man rubbed his chin. “You'd think I'd remember stealing a woman.” He laughed then. “Oh! I remember now! You're one of those thieving Plains Ruthani who raided a half dozen farms, killed a dozen people until we put paid to the lot of you.”

He pointed to one of the men with a pistol and beckoned to him.

The man listened to the whispered order, grimaced and glanced at the other Hostigi officer who said plainly, “Oh, humor Captain Mortar, Corporal! He is a man of many surprises.”

“You'll be really surprised by this one, I'm thinking, Captain,” the corporal replied, but he turned and vanished into the night.

The huge mountain of a man gestured at the person behind Jako. “Lady Puma, explain to good Captain Gryllos about the Plains Ruthani, and then, as gently as you can, explain to our Plains Ruthani guest just how we followed his trail.”

The woman behind Jako spoke. “Plains Ruthani were once the fiercest Ruthani warriors. For centuries they held back the Zarthani invaders, fighting many battles, where they proved their bravery over and over.”

Jako nodded. That was so! They'd sung those songs around the fires often when he was a boy. This woman didn't lie!

“The thing was, at the end there were a lot of Zarthani and not many Plains Ruthani. All of them with stones were killed in the wars; only the meek and foolish survived to father children. There are very few Plains Ruthani left and mostly they are either meeker or more foolish than ever.

“It was twelve years ago, when I was a little girl, the old ones whispered that the Plains Ruthani had raided the Hostigi while they were fighting the Mexicotál. The High King had only the very old and very young to send in defense of their farms. They caught the Plains Ruthani in a trap, and then followed them back to their village. Those fools thought because they had traveled a thousand miles to raid the Hostigi that the Hostigi wouldn't know where they'd come from.

“They were like children, hiding in plain sight, pretending to themselves that no one could see them.”

Big Mortar nodded. “We actually beat them back to their village. Old Krimnos had the idea of leaving a barrel of beer in their path. They got back to their village and opened that barrel.”

“And you killed them all!” Jako growled in anger.

“We killed one foolish man who thought he could shoot straighter than a dozen of our marksmen. Their chief threw down his weapon and called Oath to Galzar.” He laughed wickedly. “A Ruthani calling Oath to Galzar! We respected it anyway. We arrested them...”

Jako interrupted. “And burned the village!”

“That we did! Hadn't they burned a dozen farms? Hadn't they killed a half dozen men? We took them to Xiphlon where the High King's man, Chartiphon, held court for them. The men were offered a choice between service as scouts for the High King, or the tattoo of a wild Ruthani. A 'W' on the back of their hands. Wild Ruthani, arrested a second time–those Ruthani, we do treat harshly. If they are found guilty of crimes against the High King, we kill them.

“Most of them took the High King's colors; many served with great bravery against the army of the God-King when he came north that year. Most have left the service of the High King now, taking the High King's reward. Only a few wanted to return to the ancestral homelands, but some did.”

“And their chief?”

“Was branded. He got into a knife fight a few moons later in a tavern and lost. I'm thinking that was your father.”

The huge officer nodded. “Explain to this man, Lady Puma, why he's an idiot.”

“It's barely past winter, Captain. He gets cold, and to fight the cold, he slathers himself with bear fat. When I was a girl and bullied by the village boys, once I too thought to cover myself with bear fat–I thought I would be too slippery for them to grab!

“I learned–as most Ruthani children do–at least Lost Ruthani children–that defeating bear grease simply means that you trip the person and then sit on them.”

Jako scowled. It was as though the woman could see his face. “Ruthani, do you understand just how much rancid bear grease stinks? We could have followed you a day later and still have run you to ground.”

Jako closed his eyes in frustration. Bears weren't that common in the plains; sure, he'd had trouble with smell at first, but after a few days he'd stopped noticing the stench. How stupid can you be?

“What is it, husband?” a feminine voice asked. “Why am I roused in the middle of the night?”

“I brought you a present, sweet love.”

“A present? That? Husband of mine, that present stinks a mile upwind. Don't even think about bringing it home!”

“My sweet, I do believe he's a relative of yours–he claims he's your brother.”

“My brother?”

Jako opened his eyes and saw a woman older than he was, shorter, even, than he was. “Rain Dancer,” he breathed her name in wonder.

She slammed a punch into his stomach. “We thought you were dead! What did you do? Hide?”

He flushed. “I saw them take you away...”

“I was stupid–it runs in the family, I think. I took my dagger and I was going to kill myself before I'd let a foul Hostigi capture me.” She looked at the big officer with something in her eyes that Jako didn’t understand. “He stopped me. When I fought him, he trussed me up. When I wouldn't go with him quietly, he gagged me and put me over his shoulder.”

Her laugh was bitter. “Your life looks differently when you're slung over a man's shoulder, head down and helpless. I was put with the other women, and he told them that I'd tried to kill myself and that he would hold them responsible if I tried again.

“The next day, he apologized to me for his rough treatment of me. Everyone talked about it for days; I mean, a man like Big apologizing to a stupid chit like me! Two days later, I asked him to walk with me outside the firelight. The stupid man refused! Me! He refused to walk with me!

“He was, he told me, going to be an officer of the High King one day, and then he'd take the High King's reward and become a noble. Only after that, he told me, would he be ready to take a wife and that if I was still of a mind to, he'd be pleased to be my husband. Right there, in front of everyone in the village, even our father, I put my arms around his neck and gave him a kiss that curled his toes. I promised him that if he ever looked at another women between then and when he achieved his dream, I'd kill her–and him.”

Her eyes blazed. “He kept his promise; I never had to keep mine.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Brother, has anyone told you that you stink to the very heavens?”

“I did,” the woman from behind Jako said.

Rain Dancer laughed. “Do you know the name of the sister of the woman who holds you at knifepoint?”

“She said she was someone's daughter. I could care less.”

“Her father was the Lion of the Ruthani. He killed the God-King of the Mexicotál. And brother, you should care, as her sister is Tanda Havra–Kills-From-Behind–wife now, of Duke Tuck.”

Jako swallowed. Oh, that Lion of the Ruthani! And Tanda Havra! Every Ruthani knew her story! His back suddenly itched at the thought of someone like that behind him.

His sister's husband turned brisk. “And your brother's name?”

“Jako, the Nighthawk,” she replied.

“Jako, you have a choice right now. You can give me your parole–a promise you will not try to escape and that you won't harm any of the High King's subjects. Be aware, that the penalty for breaking an oath to the High King is death.

“Tomorrow you will stand before Countess Judy and she will ask you if you will take the High King's colors. If you say yes, you'll be able to keep those weapons on your back, and we'll give you a lot better stuff to keep you warm than rancid bear grease. If you say no, we'll take the weapons and turn you out of the northern gate at dawn, the day after tomorrow. You'll have a 'W' branded on your wrist. It will be your choice.”

“I can keep them? A rifle that can reach out a thousand paces and kill a man?”

“In the right hands it can. I promise you that if you take the High King's colors, you'll be trained by men who can show you how to do it, if you've the wit to learn.”

“Then I'm your man,” Jako told him.

“You'll be your own man, Jako Nighthawk.”

“I give you my promise.”

“Brother,” Rain Dancer said.

Jako looked at her.

“It isn't that I don't love you, I do. You're my long lost little brother,” Rain Dancer said.

She turned to her husband. “He may come into my house when he doesn't smell. Sooner would be better than later.”

“Corporal,” Big Mortar said to one of the Hostigi, “please escort Jako here to the barracks. See that he bathes. Often. Thoroughly. My nose is not as refined as Rain Dancer's, but I'd like to be able to smell something besides rancid bear grease for the rest of my life. Bring him by my quarters after morning muster if you can make him presentable.”

Jako felt the knife press against his skin once again. The voice of the woman who held him was velvet soft. “Ruthani, know that the Hostigi value their oaths as much as their lives. I was Ruthani, but now I'm a Lady of Tanda Havra's court. Count on my oath: run and you'll never know when my knife will bite. One moment you'll be fat and stupid, and the next you'll be guesting with your ancestors. I swear it!”

She pushed him, and he staggered a half step forward. He turned, wanting to catch a glimpse of her. There was nothing but an empty roof.

Rain Dancer laughed at his discomfit. “Brother, one man won her heart–after a fashion. Except he turned out to be a traitor to the High King, Duke Tuck and Lady Puma. He is lucky to be alive. I don't think it will happen twice that such a person escapes. He survived by running away.”

Jako looked around. Only the corporal was left on the roof, Rain Dancer and her husband and himself. The huge Hostigi captain walked away with his sister and Jako somehow managed to control his urge to kill the man once again.

“Come,” the corporal told him.

Meekly, Jako followed the man. Instead of heading back towards the palace, the corporal started to trot away from it. Jako fell into step beside him.

He was led to a room in a barracks, with strange metal objects on the wall. The corporal waved at one. “That turns on the water. It'll be hot, but not uncomfortable. There is soap. Use a lot of it. Wash many times. I will have a private outside, and he will tell you if you may leave.”

Jako looked at him and slung the weapons and left them on a bench. The corporal nodded. “You worry that we'll take them.”

“Aye.”

“The soldiers of Hostigos aren't thieves. The soldiers of the Mexicotál aren't thieves. Most of the Ruthani have learned their lesson. Your weapons are safe.”

“Are they truly mine?”

The corporal stepped forward and shoved Jako against the wall, his hand on Jako's throat. “Ruthani, you were told they were yours if you do certain things. If you wish them, do what you were told.”

“I hate the Hostigi.”

The man laughed. “And I'm not a Hostigi. I am Aznoq of the Mexicotál! I am a scout for Countess Judy! Ruthani, in your wildest dreams of glory, you couldn't aspire to higher!”

“And when I am clean enough for your private?”

The corporal pointed to the bench Jako had leaned his stolen weapons against. “There, Ruthani! You value those weapons so much, you sleep with them. There! Don't leave!”

Jako watched his weapons as he bathed, but they remained safe. Six times the private at the entrance to showers waved him back. The seventh time there was a different man. He turned up his nose. “Ruthani, I am but a private in the army of the High King. But you stink to the heavens! I think it's your hair; Ruthani, which do you love more? Your hair or your sister?”

“My sister.”

“Remain there, and I will fetch our barber.”

A few moments a bleary-eyed private appeared. In spite of his look, he was a wizard with scissors and a razor. Two finger widths later they showed Jako his face in a mirror. He closed his eyes; he was so ugly!

Still, a short while later he was taken to his very large brother-in-law who sniffed once. “He'll do. Be sure he bathes twice more before afternoon muster.”

Jako had figured out by then that his brother-in-law was a master of bluster. He didn't dare ignore his wishes, but he was starting to learn his moods.

Rain Dancer fixed him breakfast, talking as she worked; first about their family, then their relatives.

Rain Dancer had been right: their mother was mystery. “We were taken to Xiphlon, the greatest city in the High King's realms. She claimed a wagon of our own grain after the raid, and they let her keep it.

“She has traded hard, ever since. She is the second largest grain merchant these days in Xiphlon. Jako, our mother could buy our whole village; she could buy most counties in the High King's lands.”

“And our father–I heard he was dead.”

“He drank too much; he always drank too much. He was drunk and started a fight with some of the former guardsmen of Styphon. They killed him. Trust me on this, brother: there is no love lost between the men of the High King and those who once owed allegiance to Styphon Bed-wetter. If they say it was a fair fight, they bent over backwards to give the advantage to our father.”

“He led the war band into a trap, and then, besotted with a little beer, he led the Hostigi back to our village. He was not a fit war band leader,” Jako said.

Rain Dancer waved at her front door. “Big kept me alive, little brother. He wouldn't let me kill myself, as I'd been taught was my duty. He showed me things...so many great things people could achieve if they worked together instead of at odds.

“He would not marry me, Jako. He wouldn't even kiss me proper...not until he was an officer of the High King. I thought he was crazy; why would a High King notice a poor soldier of his realm?

“Brother, the High King is High King because he sees everything in his realm! He is a fair man! He is a just man! He is the greatest man who has ever lived!”

“You husband became an officer,” Jako said, stating the obvious.

“Twice, twice they made him an officer. The first time was a shallow promise from fools. The High King makes fine promises, and he keeps them! A man younger than you promoted him to lieutenant–then a countess made Big a captain. I am, brother, beside myself with pride.”

“As well you should be, Rain Dancer. Will they honor their promises to me?”

The blow was faster than he imagined his sister could move. “Brother! Slander my husband! Slander the duke! But slander the High King in my hearing again, and I may decide you are too stupid to live.”

“And the destruction the High King wrecked on our brothers in the North, last winter? I heard it was terrible!”

“Brother, you tread dangerous ground! You need to find out what our 'brothers' did in the name of the Ruthani. It will make you spew! The High King and the King of the Zarthani sent emissaries into each village that they invested; emissaries of peace. Some of those emissaries were killed, even though they came under a flag of truce.

“To survive, our 'brothers' in the north had only to forswear allegiance to those who foment war and pledge to remain neutral in the wars of the High King and the King of Zarthan against their enemies. Those that refused–those were the villages destroyed, brother.”

“I heard different,” he said stubbornly, trying to cling to his impressions of the Hostigi.

“Brother, spend some time remembering what those men looked and sounded like who told you those stories. The Hostigi pay good rewards when such are identified and captured.”

“You are not the Rain Dancer I once knew.”

“Little brother, I grew up. I am not proud of what I once was. I have learned different! My husband has taught me! His captain! His colonel! The duke and his wife! And above all, Countess Judy! If you aspire to anything, aspire to be like her! She fought a thousand attackers! She had few more than eighty! She killed more than a hundred men that day by herself! Her men–and women–killed nine of ten of their attackers and sent the survivors fleeing, gibbering in terror about the demons they had unleashed!”

Jako could see his sister’s chest heaving, as if she had run a long way.

He bowed his head meekly. This was truly a different person than his sister had been.

His sister’s finger stabbed out, painfully meeting with his chest. “You will do nothing–nothing–to shame me or my husband to the countess!”

He nodded meekly. His sister had always bullied him. This, at least, was familiar ground.


	3. The Sisters

I

Lady Lydia Valenzuela looked up at her assistant as the young woman entered Lydia’s office and she smiled to herself. Making a decision on who would make a good assistant had been one of the toughest things she had ever done. Tamala was the eldest granddaughter of the Olmechan General Thanos, who had been the tutor to King Xyl, Prince Cambon and Princess Maya. Tamala was just seventeen, but she spoke fluent Zarthani as well as her native tongue.

Another smile chased across her face, but wasn’t visible on it. Tamala had been taught by priests of the god Styphon. Lydia’s friend from grade school, Countess Judy of Tecpan, didn’t know it, but several hundred Mexicotál girls had been taught by the priests of Styphon. They had been intended to marry Zarthani and Hostigi nobles, and spy for Styphon.

Except those priests had overplayed their hand and had all been brutally slaughtered. Well, most of them. Some of their leaders led charmed lives, having escaped the slaughter in both the former lands of the Mexicotál God-Kings, formerly in what she knew as Mexico, and the Zarthan kingdom, pretty much California, Oregon, Washington and a chunk of Idaho.

It has been an exciting five years, that was for sure!

She was Lady Lydia, the Secretary of the High Council of the county of Tecpan, under her friend, Countess Judy these days. Except she was more than a secretary; her friend liked to call Lydia 007–like James Bond. She was the head of the county’s espionage apparatus. And that was a whole lot more than a book adventure.

She sighed. She’d had to kill people. Well, she had to have them killed but she was sure that at some point was going to have to do it personally.

Judy had killed a Mexicotál soldier a long, long time ago. But that had paled when Judy had earned her county. Her position had eighty-five defenders and was attacked by a thousand veteran Mexicotál soldiers. At the end there was just Judy and a baker’s dozen survivors from the defenders–there were no survivors among the attackers. And the only weapon Judy had at the end was a field shovel.

Judy would never talk about that battle. “Intense!” was the only thing she’d say about that day. Intense! Hah! People Lydia respected had told the story–Judy had killed more than a hundred men with her shovel.

Lydia shook her head, trying to focus on Tamala. How does a nineteen year old noblewoman pick an assistant? She’d thought long and hard about it.

To pick someone older than she was was doomed to fail, she believed. On the other hand a person younger than her had to be carefully chosen. The job was dangerous; the person had to be able to take care of herself. Raising someone up from the peasantry, a former serf or a former slave would run the risk of creating a petty tyrant. A noble would, like as not, have airs.

Lydia was the daughter of a city maintenance worker and the granddaughter of a Mariachi musician, and airs gave her gas.

Tamala was a noble of the Olmecha. The Olmecha had first been defeated by her friends, and then the Olmecha had been hideously, terribly betrayed. Enemies they had never met or seen before spread a plague among them, whose symptoms were similar to the cholera that Lydia knew.

Except the Olmecha had no native resistance to the disease. They had died in the thousands, tens of hundred thousands, tens of millions–perhaps two hundred million dead in a plague that made the Black Death look like a bad cold.

Tamala’s grandfather had found Tamala near death, her parents, her older brothers and younger sister, dead a few feet away. The plague had had an unexpected side effect–some of those who had suffered the worst had white hair afterwards. Ninety percent of the white hairs were men, but there were some women. King Xyl was a white hair, Countess Judy’s husband was a white hair as well. And Tamala.

She had woolgathered too long, Tamala was trying to talk to her.

“Lady Lydia, the Kumiai sisters request an audience.”

“Of course, Lady Tamala.”

“My lady, they request a private audience as quick as you can. They were rude.”

Lydia smiled. If Tamala had any weaknesses, it was an antipathy to the common people of Tecpan who had risen in revolt against the God-King.

The Kumiai sisters were unique among the people of Tecpan. They had built a copper still and had started to produce distilled fermented maize–corn whiskey. In no time they had become the richest merchants in Tecpan.

When the plague came to Tecpan it was mooted about that washing with whiskey killed the plague “demons.” In a burst of genius, the Kumiai sisters had donated their entire stock and their entire production to the defense of the city. Before the plague they had been wealthy–now it was more accurate to define them as “rich beyond avarice.”

Of course Lydia would see them!

The two women came in. They were typical Mexicotál, on the short side, maybe five feet or a little more. They were dusky red, not having had nearly as much dilution of the original Amerind stock as Lydia’s ancestors had experienced. They had black hair, but unlike Lydia’s shiny black silk, theirs was dull.

Once the priests of the God-King had been killed or driven out, the common people were free to use cotton, and nearly everyone wore undyed, plain white, fabric. However the sisters were rich and thus wore something like vests made of wool, richly embroidered, over their usual garb.

Lydia couldn’t tell the two women apart, but one kept perpetually a half-step in front of her sister, and was commonly referred to as Kumiai the Elder, and the one behind was Kumiai the Younger.

“My lady Lydia, thank you for seeing us so promptly,” the Elder said.

“You are always welcome here, ladies.”

The Elder cast a glance at Tamala. “We asked for a private audience, we have information that the leaders of Tecpan alone need to hear.”

That wasn’t a hard decision to make either! Several times the sisters had valuable information that they’d heard. A tavern where whiskey was served was a good place to overhear interesting tidbits, and the sisters and those who worked for them were on the lookout for such.

“Tamala, please leave us.”

She could see that the younger woman wasn’t happy, but there had too many sharp lessons that enemies were among them, working in secret to bring down Tecpan.

Still, Tamala knew enough that she left, bad grace or not.

The elder of the Kumiai sisters dropped her voice to a conspiratorial level. “We had a cousin who lived in the village of Xuahoc, about thirty miles south of Becal. Until last night we thought he, his wife and son had died in the plague.

“It turns out that the God-King’s priests there were strongly allied with those in Becal, and like Becal, Xuahoc was protected from the plague.

“Our cousin is a baker and two moon quarters ago he heard that he could command a premium for his goods in the city proper. He loaded up a cart with as much it could carry and hurried to the city.

“He took a stall in the main market and was ecstatic; the prices in the city were much higher than at home. They sold about two-thirds of their wares on the first day, and decided to stay overnight and sell the rest the following day.

“What I’m about to tell you, my lady, we do not understand. In the early morning two women were walking through the market. They passed by my cousin’s stall and he thought he recognized us. They looked, he said, identical to us.

He called out and instead of greeting him, they hurried off. He was offended, and said something to his wife about uppity cousins. She followed where he pointed, and saw the two women talking to a market guard. The guard blew on his watch whistle and started towards my cousin and his family.

“My cousin looked at his wife and they ducked out the back of their stall and ran like the wind, my cousin carrying his son. They knew to run, because too often they had seen the same thing done to others.

“My cousin is a smart man. He had quite a bit of money, and they went straight out the East gate, and turned north. He stayed west of the mountains at first, then used a path to the east side once they were well north. He had grabbed some of his bread and stuffed it in his shirt.

“He arrived in Tecpan last night. He thinks the pursuit went towards Xipototec. He was surprised to see us–the people of Becal have been told by the priests that the death toll from the plague everywhere other than Becal was very high.”

“Did you tell your cousin that the war between Hostigos and the Olmecha is ended and will probably not start again?” Lydia asked.

“He says that the priests tell them that Mexico is now a howling wilderness, that the Gods have punished all the unbelievers.”

Lydia thought for a moment. Tuck had talked with Judy and Judy had talked with Lydia about what had happened, and that Tanda Havra knew a great deal more than any of them. She knew about alternate timelines. It was a little unsettling knowing that there were hundreds of versions of her that had never been caught up in that machine, and had gone about her alternate lives completely unaware of what had happened to this version of Lydia Valenzuela.

More frightening than that even was knowing that those people who traveled on the timelines could fool with memories. Not only could they make you forget things, they could substitute new memories for your old ones. Tuck believed that a lot of the spies they’d found were really from other timelines and who had their memories “adjusted.”

Tanda Havra believed that it wasn’t something that could be done quickly so they were people taken from “nearby” timelines and “adjusted.”

“I must talk to the Duke of Mexico and Countess Judy. You will be rewarded; the duke will determine how much. What you have told me is likely very important.”

“Reward our cousin instead, Lady Lydia. He gave up his home and business.”

“If that is your wish, Lady Kumiai.”

The woman in front giggled. “We’re not ladies, Lady Lydia. We are simple peasant folk. This is for Tecpan, the least we can give in return to the city of our birth.”

“I will be in touch, Elder.” With that Lydia picked up a small bell on her desk and rang it.

Tamala appeared with a slight delay; Lydia hoped she hadn’t been listening at the door.

“Tamala, run and tell the countess or one of her ladies, that I will come in a palm width. Then run out to the garrison. I’ve heard that the Ruthani, Sergeant Leem, is here this moon quarter. Tell him I need to see him at once if he is available. If he can’t be quickly found, tell the senior scout I want to see him.”

“At once, Lady Lydia!”

It took a half palm width for Leem to show up, but he brought the head of the Tecpan scouts, a Mexicotál, with him.

Time was short so Lydia got right down to it. “The Kumiai sisters were here a short time ago. They told me that a cousin of theirs got in some trouble in Becal a moon quarter ago. The sisters said that the cousin lived in a village, named Xuahoc, about thirty miles south of Becal. Evidently, like Becal, the priests helped the people of this village to survive the plague. Have you ever heard of this village?”

Sergeant Leem shook his head. “The Duke has forbidden me to go south of Becal. I know nothing of it.”

Trenoc, the Mexicotál scout, spoke up. “I had heard of the village before the plague, but I didn’t hear that the village survived. I haven’t heard of any of the villages surviving before. We haven’t gotten south of Becal. I would imagine Zimapan and King Xyl would know.”

“Trenoc, I want you personally to check with General Cambon. Leave in a finger width or two.

“There are two other things of interest. The Kumiai sisters said that their cousin, his wife and a son entered Tecpan late yesterday. I was under the impression that that was impossible, that none could go from Becal to Tecpan without being seen. They would be stopped and brought in to the citadel.”

“Lady Lydia, I am not excusing that failure, but the Ruthani scout north of Tecpan, and the Mexicotál to the south. It is possible that there is a strip where the patrols don’t overlap. I will get with Trenoc and make sure that it doesn’t happen again,” Leem explained.

“And last, but not least, the cousin seems to have been pursued by the soldiers of Becal. It might be interesting if we find some of their soldiers, that we watch them, and let them go home if they do no mischief. Perhaps they will decide that the route is a dagger to Tecpan’s heart. Later, a sharp ambush just might catch them with their pants down.”

“A company of mortars and the First Southern Mounted Rifles would do a lot of damage to treaty-breakers,” Leem mused. “That is a good idea, Lady Lydia. Duke Tuck taught us a lot about letting the enemy think things that aren’t true.”

“S’Truth!” Trenoc said emphatically. “I was with General Thanos. The common soldiers lost all confidence when they saw their leaders had no idea how they should fight Lord Tuck. All they knew was how to kill their common soldiers.”

“We’ll get right on this, Lady Lydia!” Leem said.

She spent a few moments refreshing herself before walking across the square to the Palace. Her friend Judy stood and hugged her hard. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, 007!”

Lydia knew what her friend was talking about. “Judy, the only real danger here is your husband’s stiff-necked pride.”

Judy sighed. “I hope the silly fool listens to reason! What did you want to see me about?”

“This is for your ears only, Judy,” she said in English.

The countess spoke in the same language. “It’s too late for the birds and bees lecture.”

Lydia grinned and shook her head.

“All of you, out,” the countess commanded. There were a half dozen hangers on and her guards in the room. The guards were used to their mistress’s conferences and they chivvied everyone out.

Lydia rapidly summed up the Kumiai sister’s visit and then got to the meat. “I’ve talked to Leem and Trenoc, they are scouting the back trail, probably as we speak. It was my thought we could let anyone from Becal on that trail go for a time. Then when they send a larger party, we could surprise them and wipe them out.”

“A good plan, 007!”

“That’s not all. Evidently there are time travelers in Becal. I think they brought a pair of women from an alternate timeline, brainwashed them and intend on using them to substitute for the Kumiai sisters–probably to assassinate Tuck. I don’t think they’ll try for you and Gamelin–there would be too much of a chance someone would see them and mistake them for the real sisters.

“You’re right, Lydia, it’s the duke, I fear, and Tanda Havra. Everyone in Mexico has at least heard of the sisters. We need to get in touch with the duke as quickly as we can.”

“Lady Countess, you think too small. We’ll have to send to Zacateca and Zimapan as well.” Lydia knew it grated on her friend when she used her title.

“No matter what code we use, we run a risk using those codes to transmit the message. We are a thousand years ahead of the Zarthani and the Olmecha in our codes. We are, according to Tanda, fifty thousand years behind her former masters,” Lydia reminded her friend.

“Feel up to a little trip, Lydia? You go to Zacateca and then Zimapan. I go to Xipototec. No messages for anyone to decode.”

“We need to do it right now, this instant,” Lydia told her friend.

“Agreed. I’ll make the arrangements as soon as you are out the door. You’ll have a company of mortars and half of the First Southern Rifles. I’ll have the rest.”

Lydia looked at her friend. “I hope we fare better than the last time you tried to travel light.”

“I’ll give you Gryllos and take Gamelin for myself.”

“Give me Gryllos and the Heavy Weapons Company and the Special Intelligence Unit. You take the Second Mortars and your husband.

“The captain of the Second Mortars was telling Gamelin the other day that he was ready for a contest with Gryllos,” Lydia said.

Judy laughed. “Are you saying I need more troops?”

“Probably not. Probably,” Lydia replied.

“You can pick up some troops from King Xyl, then hit up Grand Marshal Hestophes for some for the trip back. Tuck will give me a sufficient guard for the trip back. The trick will be to give no one time to prepare an ambush.”

II

Puma entered Tanda’s office. “Lady Tanda, Leem is outside. He says it’s important.”

“Next time, just bring him right in unless someone is ahead of him. Then ask.”

“Yes, Lady Tanda.”

Tanda knew her husband hated the formality, but in spite of that, she knew it was important. Leem entered the room and looked at Puma pointedly. “If Lady Puma is an enemy, we are surely lost...she’s your sister, after all. And not even a half-sister, much less a no-blood sister,” Tanda said.

Leem delved into a pouch on his belt and produced a small device that looked like her husband’s binoculars, but smaller and with other things attached. “I have heard of the duke’s far-seeing device, sister. These seem to work in the same fashion, but with one important difference. They seem to see in the dark.”

That startled Tanda. “Lady Puma–run and fetch my husband. Tell him to fly like the wind, but politely of course.”

The young Ruthani woman grinned and was out of the office in a heartbeat. Tuck arrived about three finger widths later.

He listened to Leem’s description and picked the device up and looked at it. Leem advised him, “I couldn’t make it work, Lord Tuck. But our patrol...they said the men of Becal seemed to know just where they were. Twice our patrol ran far and fast enough that they should have escaped pursuit. The men of Becal never hesitated, but came straight at them.”

“How did our patrol escape then, Sergeant?” the duke asked.

The sergeant laughed. “They might be able to see a man in the dark, but they can’t see behind rocks. Sergeant Lemius realized that the patrol leader would put these to his eyes, and then tell his men where to go.”

“And how in the dark could he tell?”

Again Leem grinned. “They still don’t look behind themselves, either. Lemius hid behind a big rock, circled around it, and came up from behind to watch them.”

“I hope he realizes he would be dead now if that man who had the device had the wit to look behind him.”

“Our sergeant stayed close to cover, Duke. He was ready to hide again if he had to. They fired a couple of shots at our patrol at first; they got very exercised when they found their officer’s throat slit and his magic device stolen. It’s a waste of fireseed to shoot at shadows in the dark–particularly when our men were hiding behind rocks. And their marksmanship is still awful.”

“Puma, put out the lights in here,” the Duke commanded. The Ruthani woman did as commanded and a moment later Tuck sighed. “I’m going to hand them to you, Tanda. There is a little lever thing on the right. Push it down after you have it to your eyes.”

Tanda did as asked, holding the device to her eyes. She easily found the lever and pushed it. The room gleamed with an eerie light. Actually, after a few heartbeats she realized it was the people in the room that gave off the light. Even the lanterns that had been turned off still gave off some light.

“Have you seen through these, Leem?” Tanda asked her no-blood brother.

“As I said, I did but I couldn’t see in the dark. A lever, eh?”

“Take them, and when you’re done, hand them to Lady Puma.”

Tanda turned to where Tuck was. “What should we do?”

“The odds are that they don’t have many of these and that they are being placed in the hands of well-thought-of junior officers. It is a truism: no army has too many well-thought-of junior officers. Leem, tell your people that if they see the device if they think they can hit it, shoot it. The man carrying one otherwise. They aren’t to take risks to capture these. I suspect that they are fragile, hard to keep up and cost like the devil.”

“You’ve seen such things, Tuck?” Tanda asked.

“Seen? No. Heard of? Yes. Even my people have trouble with these. The equipment is very expensive, very large–difficult for a single man to carry.

“Please, Leem, tell your people that these aren’t magic. Once upon a time fireseed was a temple miracle of Styphon. It burned with pretty sparks. Some priest, somewhere, realized that, if confined, fireseed would explode–like as not a small amount exploded and something whizzed past his ear.

“He built the first cannon. A man cannot lift a cannon. The larger cannons, the first ones built, they had to move with teams of horses. One day another priest looked at a cannon and thought, ‘I bet I can make a cannon that a man could carry!’ and started experimenting to make the first musket. Then a man could carry a small cannon that would punch holes in things. So forth and so on, to the current day and art.

“And it is art–improvements, many of them small, that make weapons work better or more efficiently. Better steel allows smaller barrels, and that makes the weapons lighter. Rifling and changing the shape of the bullet improves accuracy. Using the force of the recoil to cock a weapon so it is ready to fire before you have time to pull the trigger again.”

Leem and Puma had finished their inspection and the lights came back up.

Tuck took them, looking the device over. Finally he grunted in satisfaction. Tanda saw an opening in the side of the device. He gently tugged and a small metallic tube came out. “This provides the power that works the device. Did you see a blue rectangle at the bottom of the screen?”

Tanda remembered, as did the others. “It’s showing half full, I think. A lot of devices like this ran through batteries in a hurry. Radios used to be like that...but we made the radios smaller, tougher–and used less power.”

“What is a radio my husband?” Tanda asked.

“There are things that multiply the effectiveness of soldiers. Radio is one of many such things. Imagine scouts that can communicate with their officers instantly. Imagine that officers can communicate with their scouts as they discover the enemy? And most important of all–communicate with their officers back in Xipototec or Tecpan at once.”

Tanda Havra nodded. “I’ve used such–I just didn’t know the name for it. Technology was forbidden to people like myself.”

III

Tanda entered her husband’s office, where he was busy with maps.

“Tuck, my no-blood brother wants to talk to you in private. He does not want anyone other than me to be present.”

Tuck nodded. “Puma is off working with the women of Xipototec. She is not due to return until late tomorrow,” Tanda continued.

Tuck bobbed his head, and Tanda turned and let her brother in, who was accompanied by a man who was clearly Olmechan. The odd thing about the man was that he was wearing a wolf cape, like those favored by the priests of Galzar, the soldiers’ god. That and he had prematurely white hair. “Lord Tuck, this man is lay brother Heurtic, seconded to us by King Xyl, personally. Heurtic started as a candidate to the priesthood of Dralm, then of Galzar. He lives to kill the men who killed his wife and family. He is one of the very few survivors from Tenosh.

“I took him under my wing, and taught him the tricks of the Seals. As you commanded, I no longer go into the lands of Becal; Huertic does that in my place. He could be a Ruthani, Lord Tuck. He can run, hide, and swim like a fish.”

Tuck nodded. “You must be very brave to win praise from Leem, of the Lost Ruthani.” 

Heurtic bobbed his head. “Lord, I watched my children die of the plague; I watched my wife throw herself off the roof of our apartment in sorrow for their deaths. I’d have died next to her, but by then, I had the plague and no longer had the strength. A priest of Holy Dralm found me laying in my own waste and gave me his own water flask that had been prepared for him by soldiers loyal to him.”

The man blinked back tears. “I was so thirsty! I thought only of myself! I lived and the old priest died. I felt such shame! I vowed to his god that I would follow in the path he made for me!

“I went to Zacateca, with the soldiers who survived. There I was told that if I wanted vengeance quickly, I should go to Becal where the men who planned my family’s death lived. If I was more patient, I should go to Zimapan, where the forces of King Xyl and the High King were preparing to sail east to where the plague came from. But the king bade me think, that if I wanted to hurt the men who killed our people more than any other fashion where I could do it best was in Xipototec.

“Fury burned white hot in me; I went to Xipototec and met Leem. Leem was introduced to me as the son of the man who had killed the God-King!

“For a few moons the priests of the God-King blamed every ill in the land on the God-King’s murder. Except we knew the truth of it. In those days, only old crones climbed the pyramid. The priests were taking our young women for themselves. I had a comely daughter, already marked by the priests.

“Then there was a new king. I had a wife, sons and daughters! I was too cowardly to join in the killing! But I rejoiced that my daughters would not go to the priests. Then came the plague and the ruin of my dreams. The man whose father had killed the God-King? I wanted to buy him whiskey so that we could both get blind drunk and forget the past!”

He looked at Leem like a sinner looks at a saint. “A priest told me that I should train so that I could better kill those who killed my family! Then he died so that I might live. The soldiers with him should have killed me, but they had taken the words of the old priest to heart. They were going north to join King Xyl in Zacateca.

“I was still lost. I saw the Great Pyramid of Tenosh and I vowed to climb it and let the gods decide my fate. If the old gods were more powerful than the new, my sacrilege would result in my being struck down.

“It took days to climb the pyramid, as I was still weak. I got to the top and looked over the Valley of Mexico. The air was filthy, from the many fires–most of them pyres of the dead. Then I felt the spirit fill me–I was alive, the old gods were thrown down. I decided that I would go north to Zacateca as well. I pried loose two stones from the top of the pyramid and carried them down to the lake at its foot.

“I had my final lesson in humility then. I looked and saw my reflection in the water and saw that I wasn’t the man I’d been.”

Tuck nodded. “You have many brothers, Heurtic.”

The man bowed his head. “Aye, I know.

“I found my way to Zacateca. There was not a day on that trek where I did not cry at the fate of my people. I would spend days without seeing anyone, and when I did meet people, twice they tried to kill me.

“I reached Zacateca and King Xyl received me personally, and listened to my story. He was firm, but gentle. He had many soldiers, he told me, but very few farmers. I told him I’d sworn vengeance on the men who had killed my family, but as hot as the flame that was, it did not compare to the vengeance I sought for my people.”

Heurtic sighed. “The king came down from his throne and embraced me. A simple peasant! Me!

“The king whispered in my ear that I should to go to Tecpan, and seek out a woman, the Lady Lydia. Tell her his name, Leem and Seals and not to tell anyone except this Lady Lydia.”

Leem broke in. “Lady Lydia sent him to me, and I figured that it wouldn’t hurt to have Olmechan Seals. Duke Tuck, Heurtic runs nearly as well as the Ruthani, swims as well as I do, and can paddle far longer and harder then I do.”

“It is good,” the duke said.

“Duke, I sent him on a graduation exercise to Xilapa,” Leem reported. “The one area Heurtic is deficient in, is navigation skills. He wanted to go southeast and used the North Star to guide him–he went due south, not southeast.”

Huertic bowed his head. “Duke, I realized I was lost and was debating with the other three men on my team what we should do. I seem to have better ears than the others, and I heard a distant crack of canvas. I called for quiet, and when I realized that there were three large ships going past us, I had everyone lie down. The ships passed and one of Leem’s brother Ruthani told me that two of them were like ships he’d seen once before, when the God-King sent men to raid a wagon train.”

“I know of that fight,” Tuck said.

“Yes. He said that the third ship was narrower and a bit longer. Since we were supposed to scout, I had everyone bend to the oars and try to follow them. Leem’s brother thought that was stupid, because if they saw us, they would kill us, and they would see us at dawn. I told them that the first moment we could see any light in the sky, we would turn around.

“But, before dawn we approached an island off the coast, south of Xilapa. I decided that we should go slow. That was a good idea as ahead of us, someone made a light, that flickered like the Hostigi signals. Another light responded, and I realized that there were a lot more ships in that little bay. Duke, there were a great many ships there. I told the others we should report, only one man said we should land on the island.

“Lord Duke, I counted eleven ships like the transports and one larger ship. Then the three ships we’d been trailing were very noisy as they dropped anchors well short of the others. I thought that they were being careful, not wanting to enter into a crowded harbor on a dark night,” Heurtic concluded.

“Duke Tuck,” Leem picked up smoothly, “obviously we need to scout the group of ships.”

“Heurtic, we need someone senior from your king to help with the planning. Because we have to be very careful. Leem, consider what Heurtic and his team would have faced if any of the men of Becal had the vision equipment we saw a few moons ago.”

Leem slammed his fist into his palm. “I must tell my teams that they must go further out to sea, Duke Tuck. Becal must learn about Seals when it is too late.”

“I will send a message to King Xyl that he needs to send someone familiar with intelligence about Becal,” Tuck said.

Leem turned to Heurtic. “I have to talk with the duke about something else entirely. Please wait outside.”

“As you command, brother!”

When Heurtic had left, Leem looked at Tuck directly. “Lady Judy is my friend, so is Tanda Havra. It is not easily to say this, Duke Tuck.

“Lord Gamelin is lost. If we don’t do something for him quickly, he will do something stupid to prove his manhood. He has proved it enough times for all men to know, but recent events have shaken his faith in himself.”

“I can read between the lines of Judy’s reports. She is worried too,” Tuck replied.

“Duke, I can feel it in my bones. Becal is assembling all of their transports. It makes no sense to do that for us...they are for Zarthan.”

Tuck nodded. “If it is all of them, it’s either practice or real. As you say, there is no point in putting their army ashore on the Mexican coast. If it is real, it is indeed against Zarthan.”

“We are sure that they have a million and a half soldiers. If they have all of the transports, they can bring two hundred thousand men against Zarthan at once. Where? Zarthan has a devilishly long coast and a surplus of good landing beaches.” Leem laughed to himself. “I have made a thorough study of beaches lately. They probably would not land further north than Baytown, but a quick lunge–that could decapitate Zarthan.”

“And Gamelin is what in this?”

Leem grinned. “If what I think is true, we need to send a warning to King Freidal. An important diplomatic mission! It would be good if we had a plan to offer, Duke Tuck. The Zarthani have an immense respect for your war plans. Count Gamelin should be entrusted with the warning and an outline of a plan. Baron Vosper could accompany him.”

Tanda Havra spoke. “Keeping Lady Judy at home will be my job. I am of no use to my husband at war plans.”

Leem nodded. “I have learned nothing as a Seal about anything more than scouting. The ability to run and hide really good is wonderful but doesn’t win wars. Defending five hundred miles of coastline? I have no idea!”

Tuck smiled. “The High King is more widely read of our military scholars than I was. But I read the more recent work. Something will come to one of us, I’m sure.

“So–have someone take a message from Heurtic to Xyl and ask him for someone. Tanda, head for Tecpan. Tell Gamelin I want to see him, and nothing more. If he can get to Freidal, keeping a juicy morsel of a secret like this, we’ll know for sure. Don’t tell Judy anything but that he’s on a diplomatic mission. Tell Lydia what we suspect about a pending attack on Zarthan and let her tell Judy.

“Leem, I don’t want to tie your hands. We need to find out what those ships are intended for.”

Leem nodded. “Duke Tuck, I didn’t mention that for my first scout, the water was very cold. I was tempted by bear grease, but forbore. I was never warm except for the few finger widths after I pulled myself a little out of the water. Does the cold water hinder their night-sight?”

“Alas not, Leem. Your body burns more energy to keep warm–if your body temperature drops very much, you pass out and are helpless.”

Leem looked at Tuck beseechingly. “How do we win?”

“We asked ourselves that same question in the war I fought in. The usual answer was that we won all our battles. And we did–we won them all. Then the people of my nation said ‘Enough! Stop sending our sons home in coffins!’ And the leaders of my nation reluctantly agreed. And so it ended. There was no way to declare a victory–our enemies held the battlefields.”

“How is that possible, Lord Duke? To win the battles and lose the war?”

“We were smarter than our enemies, and we fought better than they did. But our enemies desired to win more than we desired not to lose. Here, we never beat Zarthan in a big battle. We beat them by taking little bites from their army that they couldn’t stop. Legios tells the story that when he learned about mortars, one of the officers watching was contemptuous. ‘Pinpricks!’ he said. And another, more senior officer, replied. ‘Pinpricks, yes. But enough pinpricks and the bucket empties.’”

Tuck shook his head sadly. “And when it comes to the common folk–the will to fight can empty out much faster.” Tuck smiled at the Ruthani. “Now you’ll have to excuse me, I have a lot to think about.”


	4. Warnings

I

Then there were frantic preparations for the two women to head their separate directions. Judy, Lydia had to admit, was a genius at this sort of thing. By noon of the day the Kumiai sisters came to them, everyone was assembled–then the column commanders found there would be two columns and before anyone could do more than exclaim, they were marching in opposite directions.

Lydia would have been astounded if they were intercepted before Zacateca. The Heavy Weapons Company was the fastest moving company in the entire army. The Special Intelligence Unit had been with Judy at Tarr-Dombra. They were all Ruthani and Mexicotál youth with a bare smattering of Hostigi regulars. It was the unit that had a waiting list of thousands, and every year the new volunteers competed for their place on the waiting list. The Special Intelligence Unit routinely ran the horses of other units into the ground. They eschewed horses themselves, unless their mission called for them.

Except for the Heavy Weapons Company–they were mostly large men who carried punishing loads: their mortars and ammunition. Yes, for the most part, they carried their equipment in wagons, but at the need, they too knew how to run as few others could.

Still it took a moon quarter to travel the 250 miles to Zimapan. They had signaled ahead that Lady Lydia was en route, and they were met by several thousand hardened Olmechan troops, who vied with Lydia’s escort to see which group was tougher.

In spite of the fact that they’d worked with the Heavy Weapons Company before, it was the Special Intelligence Unit that impressed the Olmechans the most.

Lydia was surprised when they met the royal party that it was King Xyl himself who bowed low to Gryllos. “Your fame precedes you, Captain.”

Colonel Legios, probably the most famous mortar officer alive, watching nearby, laughed. “I taught him everything he knows!”

Captain Gryllos laughed. “You taught Lieutenant Smyla everything he knows. We have never served together.”

Everyone laughed, before King Xyl turned to Tamala. “How are you doing, cousin?”

“I thought I had nothing to learn from someone my own age. Yet, I learn something new every day from Lady Lydia. I know almost nothing compared to her.”

“One day, cousin, we will be great again. It will be up to clever people who have learned all they can how far and fast we will be able to go in our recovery. Once upon a time the priests of the God-King valued women for what was between their legs. That is now a thing of the past. From today we need to value women, like men, for the gray matter between their ears.”

Later Lydia sat down with the king and his brother and sister, and her sister’s husband, and no others. She explained about the false Kumiai sisters. King Xyl was troubled, as she had expected. “These are foul demons!” King Xyl told Lydia.

“Not demons, King! They have been taught to act, dress like, wear their hair like someone else, and generally create an illusion that they are not who they seem. They should be easy to stop, once warned, but if we had alerted you in code, if they can read our messages, they will have learned what we sent with the codes. For the time being, I’ll use a common phrase in a message to show I sent it, ‘the caves of Regwarn’ and Countess Judy will include ‘Praise Dralm!” We will get code words from the Grand Marshal Hestophes to give you.

“The largest issue is why did this village survive?” Lydia finished.

“A few miles from the village is the largest fireseed mill the God-King had. Their were great quantities of charcoal, sulfur and niter available close by,” Xyl said.

“Ah!” Lydia exclaimed. “Do you know other places the plague skipped?”

“We didn’t know that it had survived. Scouts trying to get close to Becal usually either fail to return and return having learned nothing.”

“I think it best if we do some more scouting. King Xyl, with your permission, I’d like to ask the Ruthani to scout.”

“I don’t have any objections, but they should be extra careful. We have lost some of our best men,” King Xyl said to her.

“The Lost Ruthani have made peace with you, King. They will never make peace with Becal or the priests of the God-King.”

King Xyl nodded. “We have wondered about the events that started when the plague began. A million troops were moved to Huspai in the weeks before the plague. Those troops were the ones that General Thanos drew upon to ambush Countess Judy.

“When the general was wounded, he was taken to Zacateca and was replaced by my brother. He took seven thousand men north to once again ambush the countess. Except the plague had started in Heartlands, and I sent for him to return. I recalled the force at Huspai at the same time.

“Only Cambon returned.”

He stopped and his throat worked. “Becal says the countess bewitched Cambon. We teach differently. Two great heroes met on a battlefield and talked peace, not war. Like the High King and the First Prince did in Hostigos, as did Duke Tuck and Count Gamelin did at Outpost.

“My brother rushed back; we saved what we could.” He sighed. “Mostly it was our soldiers who had the discipline to do what they were told.

“Only later did we find that the remaining troops in Huspai had been pulled back to Becal, and a great many of the people of Huspai with them. They all benefitted from the priests of the God-Kings treatment for the plague.”

He ran his hand through his own white hair. “There are no white hairs in Becal. Our soldiers feel that white hairs are a sign that that the man has been blessed by Galzar. The worship of Galzar has spread like wildfire among our soldiers. Dralm continues to make inroads among the peasants and former slaves.

“All because Countess Judy talked peace with my brother, who could have crushed her with one hand...but didn’t. It is a debt that the Olmecha will never be able to repay.

“This visit...Lady Lydia, once again you didn’t have to. Telling us that there are some spies who resemble citizens of Tecpan. The fame of the Sisters Kumiai has spread even here. They sold the ‘whiskey secret’ to a merchant in Zacateca and he advertises it as the ‘Kumiai Blend.’ It is by far and away more popular than beer. Only the fact that they can’t produce enough of it to meet the demand makes ‘whiskey’ not a serious problem.”

Lydia laughed. “Do what my people did. Slap a tax on it. A steep tax. A tax on each barrel produced, on each bottle produced. Put a mark on each barrel showing the tax has been paid, and a stamp on each cork of each bottle. Countess Judy has dropped the tax by half, for their help during the plague–for a year.”

King Xyl smiled at her for a long heartbeat. “We have heard a great deal about Countess Judy’s Special Intelligence Unit. In a moon or two, would you receive my sister and show her some of what they do? And talk to her of other ideas you and the countess have introduced in Tecpan.”

“Make it two moons, King Xyl. I still have to go to Zimapan and then return.”

“We will provide you with a secure escort as far as the outskirts of Zimapan. We have given up our claims north of the town, but we still hold up to a day’s ride south of it. If you tell us when you will return, we will escort you back to your town.”

“We haven’t settled on a route yet,” Lydia told the king. “I will inform you of it before I return.”

“One last thing, Lady Lydia. We aren’t stupid. Cambon is working on a plan with Countess Judy. We wish to extend our cooperation with your High King and the Duke of Mexico as much as possible. It is not going to be possible to aspire to our former greatness for a very long time...centuries.”

He handed her a folded note. “This is for your High King. Can you see it delivered to him?”

“I’m sure I can, King Xyl.”

“Colonel Legios helped with the penmanship and some of the phrasing. You are welcome to read it–but it should not be read by lesser people. As fast as practical.”

“I will do my utmost, King Xyl.”

There was a formal dinner, then a night spent in a building hosting the Hostigi presence in Zacateca.

Captain Gryllos was anxious to start the next day, and Lydia and Tamala were awoken before dawn. There were more than eight hundred soldiers in the Hostigi portion of her escort, all either mounted infantry or mounted mortar troops.

Lydia settled into the carriage that had conveyed this far, with Tamala on her heels.

A shot rang out in the distance, and Tamala pitched forward onto the floor of the carriage. Outside an awesome slam of shots sounded.

Lydia bent to look. Tamala looked at her. “I’m not dead? I felt the bullet’s touch!”

“Hush my friend, let the priests look at you. You have been shot.”

The head wound was bleeding copiously. Lydia stood in the door and called for a healer.

Gryllos, a tall blonde officer, growled, “Get down Lady Lydia!”

She laughed at the young officer. “As near as I can tell, the better part of the Heavy Weapons Company just fired. I can’t believe they all missed!”

“Lady Lydia! As far as I could see, none of them missed! It’s not the assassin I could see, however briefly he existed, that is the problem–it’s the ones I can’t see.”

Still, a priest of Galzar was called and he examined Tamala carefully. Finally he sprinkled some powder on the wound.

“Lady Tamala, if you feel any sore spots in the next moon quarter, call me or another priest. I will give Lady Lydia additional priest’s powder. She should see that is sprinkled twice a day for a moon quarter on the wound.” He handed Lydia a package of folded papers with the powder and left.

Lydia reached out for Tamala’s hand. “You understand that the priest is a man?”

“Of course, my lady!”

Lydia handed her the hat that had been sitting on Tamala’s head, and wiped off by the bullet. There was a bullet hole through the raised part.

“Tamala, my dear Tamala. You wore your hair pulled back and tied together. You didn’t part your hair. Where I was from we called it a ’pony tail.’ I will give you a small hand mirror when we next stop, but now your hair is parted. Do you have a headache?”

“No, Lady Lydia. What do you mean my hair is parted?”

“The bullet came very close, Tamala. I couldn’t see your skull when the priest was working, but you bled freely. There is about a three inch strip of hair missing. I hope it won’t scar, but I have no idea if it will or not.”

Tamala reached out and plucked the hat from Lydia’s hand, and put it on her head. “Can you see the wound?”

“No, Tamala.”

“Tell me that the man who did this is dead!”

Captain Gryllos had been standing just outside the coach.

He bowed to Tamala. “Lady Tamala. It was very quick. The man shot at you, and my soldiers shot back. My men are all blooded veterans; they used their shotguns. The newer men shot twice, but most only once. Eight hundred men, six balls per shot shell, a thousand shots. I was looking right at him. One heartbeat he was there, the next...red mist hanging on the wind. There only appeared to be one assassin, standing a little apart to see Lady Lydia off. I looked, my lady, and saw nothing else suspicious.

“Your Special Intelligence Unit was all over the victim at once, but learned nothing.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Lydia told him.

A shadow appeared in the very early morning light. It was General Cambon. “My brother sent me to see what has happened. I understand that Lady Tamala has been wounded.”

“Not badly, Prince Cambon,” Lydia told him.

He chuckled. “That is good to hear, in several senses. Captain, do you have things to do?”

“Yes, Prince.” Gryllos left Lydia and Tamala and hurried off.

Cambon spoke in a soft voice. “Colonel Legios has reminded us of our duty, Lady Lydia. My brother’s letter, amongst other things, announces his betrothal to a widowed woman whose former husband commanded one of the southern regimes.”

“I understand dynastic duty,” Lydia said evenly.

“Yes, I imagine so. Lady Tamala was behind you, Lady Lydia. She was the target, not you.”

“To be honest, I haven’t had time to consider the matter at length.”

Cambon turned to Lady Tamala. “Dear lady fair, I was going to propose to you when I came to Tecpan with my sister. She was going to act as a go-between us. I cannot bear waiting a day longer than I have to, particularly when people are shooting at us. At you.”

“And I would say yes, if you were to propose, but as I understand you, you are not proposing now.”

“When I’m close and I can do something about it, dear cousin.”

“Then you can expect an affirmative answer when you do ask.”

General Cambon turned to Gryllos, who had returned. “You will have twice the guards you expected, Captain.”

“We’ll move like tortoises, Lord Prince.”

Cambon laughed. “Safely, though!”

They started on their way with no more adventures.

Ten days later they arrived dusty and tired to the fortress that was Zimapan. Lydia looked at the works with interest. Tuck had talked to her about the wasted effort in Zarthani traditional fortifications; she was a little surprised to see Hestophes would waste so much time with them.

Further, she had never met Hestophes before and she took an instant liking to the Grand Marshal and had even more of an affinity to his wife, even if she was nearly as old as Lydia’s mother had been. The two parties greeted each other formally and when they met privately the Grand Marshal listened with care, intent on the details.

Then he waved an airy hand. “Mexicotál, Olmecha, men of Becal. Here we trust men of old Hostigos only.”

“And women from the Duke of Mexico?” Lydia asked. Tamala hissed in alarm, but the Grand Marshal of Hostigos laughed.

“All men know the bravery of the High Queen, Duchess Tanda Havra and Countess Judy! You are among friends!”

“Lady Tamala was lightly wounded at Zacateca.”

He looked at Tamala and grinned. “My experience with wounds, that no matter what the priests will tell you, they itch like demons!”

“That is so, Lord Marshal!”

Lydia made a mental note. She knew how to alleviate that! She’d ridden nearly sixty miles to Outpost, uphill and downhill...then uphill a lot more. Judy had learned from Tanda Havra to treat saddle galls; Lydia imagined that treatment would work on itches!

In two palm widths she’d been dismissed. Then, in what passed for a state dinner, Hestophes had been blunt. “There is a ship leaving for Chalpai, Xiphlon and then Harphax City on the morrow. You will be on it, at least as far as Chalpai. You will follow the Big River until it turns north, but there you turn south. You will be a hundred miles from Tecpan when you start south.”

“I have nearly eight hundred soldiers in my escort, Grand Marshal.”

“I admit it will make for crowded conditions, but I know better than to separate mortar troops from their weapons. It will be only for four or five days, and all men know that mortar troops are the toughest men in the army. They can manage,” Hestophes told Lydia.

“You tell Captain Gryllos, Marshal.”

“I know fighting men, Lady Lydia. They will laugh at the hardships, and dare the others that they can do better!”

Lydia made a mental note of a question for Tuck: was there a limit to how many times leaders could go to the well, asking their men to do difficult things? Then she laughed at herself. How often had Tuck’s soldiers done the impossible?

Four days later they formed up and marched the fifteen miles to Chalpai and got there just before nightfall. Lydia and the officers were bedded down in an inn, the troops in a nearby field.

She was well asleep when Tamala shook her awake. “Lady Lydia, there is an urgent message for you from Tecpan.”

Lydia looked at Tamala, the question obvious on her assistant’s face. “The countess is planning on a surprise for her husband, and it should be soon. She asks that you make all haste in your return.”

Lydia held out her hand for the message. It was even more terse than Tamala’s rendition. There were three words that made it more understandable, even if they made no sense. “Turkeys fly soon.” That was the code that Judy’s plan was going into effect soon.

“Tamala, if you are up to it, return to Captain Gryllos. Tell him to prepare to depart at dawn.”

II

Captain Gryllos checked himself over carefully and, once sure he was as good as was going to get, walked into the Counts’ Presence chamber and saluted. The countess was alone in the room, her eyes bright.

Well, Jumper had said that the countess had wanted him to report to her; why was he surprised to see just the countess? Normally she deferred military decisions to her husband. Except her husband was under a cloud, and besides, Gryllos had been pretty sure that was always a sham...Countess Judy made the decisions.

“Captain, please sit down.

“Captain, you understand that I might be a countess, and mistress of all I survey, but that’s not a large territory in the scheme of things.”

Gryllos had no idea where the conversation was heading, and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it when he found out. He was right.

The countess held up a sheet of paper. “I have received this order from the High King. By his personal request, you are to split your company in two, Big Mortar taking over the second half and is promoted senior captain.”

“There is no man better suited, Countess,” Gryllos said loyally.

She laughed. “Except for Colonel Legios, you and Big’s brother.”

“He is a good man for the job,” Gryllos repeated stubbornly.

“The best man we have who doesn’t have his own company,” came the countess’ agreement. “You could say he stands head and shoulders above the rest.”

Big Mortar stood head and shoulders above just about everyone. “Yes, Countess.”

She lofted the piece of paper again. “This also contains an order from the High King giving me authority to promote anyone I wish to fill the new position. He doesn’t say who, but he did say that he was sure I wouldn’t make any big mistakes in an appointment this important.”

Gryllos nodded. The High King had met Big Mortar; all knew he was capable.

The countess smiled thinly. “The High King said that he’d discussed the matter with King Freidal and that you’re detached to travel to North Port in Zarthan. We seem to have overlooked training our Zarthani allies in mortars. The High King knows your name, too.”

She saw the stricken expression on Gryllos’ face. “It’s only for a year, Captain, and the mission is important.

“North Port is a northern town that, like the Mexicotál kingdom, we’ve taken back from our enemies. Alas, while they didn’t have the plague there, the enemy burned the town–and massacred every man, woman and child they could reach in the county. Then they fled.”

“They aren’t true men, Countess. They are foul spew from the depths of Regwarn.”

“Most of the northern towns of Zarthan are made of wood and not stone. Even the palaces. When they burned it, they utterly destroyed it. I don’t imagine you had a chance to meet Countess Noia?”

“No, Countess. I’ve heard a few stories–they seem to grow with each telling.”

The countess’ expression changed for a heartbeat; she seemed amused. “One of Leem’s half-blood brothers, Puma’s full blood brother, is with her. Trust me, the stories haven’t grown much. The countess’s brother usurped her county by killing their father and later he destroyed it.

“The Zarthani Royal Council, like all such assemblies of senior nobles, is reluctant to pass judgment on someone as senior as a count. However, the crimes of patricide and the murder of an entire county–those can’t be ignored. They’ve placed a bounty on his head of ten times the weight of the man in gold who brings him back alive.”

Gryllos ground his teeth. “If I gained such a reward, I’d return it to the county; they can use it more than I.”

“Well said, Captain!” the countess clapped in pleasure. “In truth, King Freidal has sent even more gold than that to aid Countess Noia, plus men and materials. Countess Noia is building a port there to rival Echinistra. Further, she’s trained in building and sailing the High King’s new ships. She’s building some of them there now, and the plan is for her to build a lot more. There is a lot of good timber close at hand.”

Gryllos nodded.

“As I said, we haven’t trained the Zarthani in mortars. It is going to take a year to build cannon emplacements to protect the harbor. Mortar pits–we can do that in a few palm widths. You will take your half company there and prepare to defend the town. The High King is sending a lot of ammunition and more tubes, but it is a great distance.”

“There is a threat?”

“The enemy has several of the large ships as well. And cannon are mounted on them. We’ve tried to mount mortars on such ships as we have, but they are very ill-suited to the task. On the other hand, defending against such ships is a much simpler matter. These ships are made from dry wood–a single mortar round exploding aboard such a vessel would put the ship in great peril. What an illumination round would do to such a ship...” her voice trailed away.

“The thought is now the countess’ usurping brother knows she’s there and building against them. Destroying the town a second time would cause an outsize blow to our ally’s morale.

“What we are going to do is send your company on two ships, with your tubes and munitions divided in half. There is a fear that at some point in time the enemy will start attacking ships in the area. So you’ll be dropped to cover the last hundred miles on land. In less than three moon quarters you’ll be in North Port, with a hundred and fifty men, and twenty tubes and ten thousand rounds.”

Gryllos swallowed. Ten thousand rounds sounded like a lot until you divided it by twenty, then it shrank to five hundred for each tube. If you aimed carefully, you could waste almost a fifth of a finger width with each shot. If you were trying to save yourselves, you could fire in bursts of twenty shots, after which you’d need to let the mortars cool. You could go through all five hundred rounds in a long afternoon in a very hot action.

“Get with Big–he’s been alerted that you’re returning to your company with important orders. By this evening you will have divided the company such that you have a hundred fifty men and Big has the rest. Take all the trainers and two lieutenants, preferably both young and not greatly experienced.

“Your men are authorized a rifle, a shotgun and two pistols. We’ll include plenty of ammunition for them.

“You’ll travel north to Mogdai, where the Zarthani road junction is. For military reasons, the road goes southeast from there, and doesn’t link up with Outpost. Still, Count Errock will be sending you most of the rounds you’ll have. You can take two hundred from our stores here. At Mogdai you’ll resupply and get remounts as well.

“I expect you can start first thing, the day after tomorrow. Tell your men nothing but they are on a long field exercise. As I said earlier, you’ll proceed north to Mogdai, where you’ll get remounts. The King of Zarthan will be authorizing your company remounts as you reach each remount post. You should cover at least fifty miles a day, and seventy-five would be ideal. At South Port, King Freidal will greet you, shake your hand–and load you aboard two ships. After ten days you’ll start your last overland segment, about a hundred miles. Lamentably there are many ferries on the route and it will take two or three days. Still, in three moon quarters time, you should be digging in to defend North Port, two thousand miles from here.”

“Countess, you can count on me to do my best. You can count on the Heavy Weapons Company to do our duty.”

She reached into a drawer of her desk and placed a single diamond-shaped insignia in front of him. “We can’t have a lowly captain out there; put that on the moment South Port is in sight.”

“Yes, Countess!”

“Good luck, Major!”

She stood and saluted him. He stood and returned it and headed out.

III

Big Mortar was waiting for Gryllos. “What’s up, Captain?”

“I am to take a hundred fifty men from the company for an extended field exercise. You will have the rest until I return.”

They quickly went to work on the details of the movement. It was impossible not to let on some of the details to Big. “You keep the married men here,” Gryllos said as calmly as he could.

Big looked at him. “Extended field exercise, eh? I know better than to ask and speculation is something I will step on.”

“If I might suggest, Big, perhaps the rest of the company can spend a few days in the field as well. If we all leave at once, it might take intelligencers a bit to suss out that not all of us came back with the others.”

“That’s a good idea, Captain.”

They went over the company and decided who would go and who would stay. “Which two officers will you take?” Big asked near the end.

“Lieutenants Menardes and Remus. They aren’t the youngest, but they aren’t totally untrained.”

“And Jumper?”

“I couldn’t face myself if I left him behind. He’s a good man, if young.”

“He’s older now than the countess was when she bent her knee to the High King and took her county.

“Captain, a favor. You already have a full complement, but I have a recommendation. You lack any scouts.”

“I don’t think scouts would have much to do.”

“You know about my brother-in-law?”

“The man who larded himself up with rancid bear grease and was sure he was invisible?”

“Yes. He’d lived on his own for years and wasn’t thinking.”

“Obviously,” Gryllos said acidly.

“Growing up my family slept with the farm animals in the house over winter. Honestly, after a while, you stop noticing.

“I’d like to send him with you,” Big Mortar said.

“Even knowing I will have just about no use for a scout?”

“He’s a Plains Ruthani, but he knows the Northern Ruthani well enough. He and I have a problem with each other; for peace in my house I don’t want it to come to a head.” 

Big spoke quickly, “For the last five years he thought I knocked his sister on the head and stole her. He thought I was going to sell her, but even when he found out that we are married, he thinks I forced her. Nothing either my wife or I have said has convinced him of anything different.

“My wife says that she will have another talk with him, and then I should send him to Xipototec to serve the duke. Or maybe Zimapan. That’ll look like I had something to do with his departure. I don’t think that will help.”

“I expect not. I might not be gone that long, Big.”

Big snorted. “I don’t want to know, Captain, and that’s a fact. But you won’t be back soon.”

Gryllos laughed suddenly. “Leem was waiting to see the countess after me. He’s the ideal person to ask him.”

“Leem is another of the High King’s secrets,” Big cautioned. Big sighed. “The only time I’ve known one of the High King’s secrets was in the dreams of senior officers who envision an army of men such as I under their command.”

“Colonel Legios told me about that.”

“Colonel Legios is an officer who knows how to make a soft landing!” Big laughed.

“I don’t think it was that soft of a landing,” Gryllos said, remembering the colonel’s epic battle with a stomach wound. “Pleasant enough, though, there at the end, there’s no denying that,” Gryllos said.

Yes, marrying the sister of the King of the Olmecha wasn’t unpleasant at all.

“Call the men in about two palm widths after high sun. Tell everyone that they are going out on an extended field exercise...they are authorized a rifle, a shotgun and two pistols as personal weapons.”

Big laughed. “Such a company couldn’t sneak up on anyone–they’ll clank as they walk.”

“Mounted,” Gryllos added with a laugh, then turned serious. “I need to see Leem; you see to the men.”

“Yes, Captain.”

*** ** ***

Sergeant Leem was a large man, who had an even larger brother. Leem was shoulder high to Big, and his brother came up to Big’s nose. “Sergeant, a moment,” Gryllos asked as the Ruthani ate lunch.

It was hard for newcomers to the West to understand when you served there: you couldn’t judge the Ruthani by their ranks in the army. Leem was a sergeant in the army of the High King of Hostigos. He was also the paramount war chief of the Lost Ruthani, with several thousand men at his beck and call.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” Gryllos said.

“Of course, Captain.”

Gryllos said what he wanted and Leem shrugged. “Captain, the High King, Duke Tuck and Countess Judy all have their secrets. You will need a scout like you will need a hole in the head.”

“Suppose my orders carry me west of the Wen-rotos?”

“The Lost Ruthani are treaty bound not to cross the river. Still, the odds of our enemies being there are very low and Jako is Plains Ruthani and unfamiliar with the ground.” He grinned.

Gryllos mentally laughed, understanding the thought. What a great way not to answer a question! “Sergeant, I’d appreciate having this man assigned to me as a scout.”

“Big thinks his brother-in-law won’t figure out who is behind this?” Leem asked.

“I think Big wants a Ruthani to tell the young man what to do so he can save face. He’s aware that if time doesn’t heal the wound nothing will.”

“And you’ll be able to keep him busy?”

“You’ll have a Ruthani scout trained on mortars.”

Leem laughed. “Ah! Pinyon will be here tomorrow. Can the order wait until then? Not even a man stupid enough to ignore rancid bear fat will question an order from Pinyon!”

“Early in the day, if possible,” Gryllos told him.

“If Pinyon isn’t here at dawn, I’ll send out scouts to find his body.”

Gryllos grimaced. He doubted if Leem was joking.

IV

Jako Nighthawk was roused before dawn. His sergeant, always on his case, was there, growling, “In trouble again, eh?”

“No, Sergeant.” He had done nothing but what he’d been told for three moons.

“They want you at headquarters. Pack your things.”

Jako shrugged, but did as he was told.

There was a big man, a large Ruthani–although not as large as his brother-in-law–waiting for him. Jako didn’t think any man was as large as Big Mortar.

The Ruthani looked him up and down. “You are Plains Ruthani.”

“I’ve never hid it,” Jako said, drawing himself up.

“Be civil when you talk to the elder. He isn’t interested in your opinions.”

A moment later he was facing an old man, whose face was seamed with lines of age. “You are Jako Nighthawk,” the old man said.

“Yes, Elder.”

“It is a tribute to the High King’s skills that there is no lingering scent of bear grease.”

Jako blushed. “My brother-in-law saw to that, sir.”

“My brother Leem has told me that you aren’t stupid. Are you stupid, plainsman?”

“No, sir.”

“The High King has many weapons. He is shared many of the smaller ones with us. The larger ones–he is a busy man, with many enemies. He hasn’t paid us much mind, and we are aware that we are indebted to him and didn’t want to bother him with what is a small oversight. We are indebted to the Duke of Mexico. Still, heavier weapons have been denied us. I spoke to the duke and he has apologized, as he didn’t think we’d be interested. I tell you, Jako Nighthawk, the Ruthani are always interested in any weapon you can carry into a battle.

“Brother Leem has asked a favor of one of the High King’s greatest officers, Captain Gryllos of Hostigi Heavy Weapons Company. The captain has agreed to take you on with his company, ostensibly as a scout. He won’t need much scouting–your job will be to do your best to learn everything you can about mortars, one of the High King’s most deadly weapons.”

“As you command, Elder.”

“Only Captain Gryllos knows what you are about. You will appear to be having a lot of free time. One of his sergeants will set you to working for him. You will make no demur. You will do all that is commanded of you; you will not speak to anyone at all of this conversation. When you return, Brother Leem or I will speak to you again.”

“I will do what I’m told, Elder. Don’t worry.”

“Have you heard the stories of the first days of our alliance with Duke Tuck?”

“No, sir.”

“A great many Ruthani promised they would do as they were told. A great many Ruthani did whatever they pleased. Duke Tuck sent most of those men home as unsuitable. Jako Nighthawk, know that none of those sent home still lives. Some took their own lives in shame, and others threw their lives away in a forlorn hope of regaining their honor. Wives turned their backs on husbands. 

“Jako Nighthawk, do what you are told! No less, and as much more as you can while fulfilling your orders. Do not let honor blind you to duty.”

Leem gestured and Jako followed him away. “You are armed how?” Leem asked as they walked.

“They let me keep the rifle and shotgun I stole. A few shots.”

“I’ll talk to your sergeant,” Leem said. He didn’t say what about.

A finger width later they were in the main barracks, in a section Jako had never seen before. It seemed like a beehive bustle.

Leem drew up before a harried older man, who would give an order and someone would scurry off to do his bidding. “Sergeant Roric, a moment,” Leem said. The man promptly ignored his minions.

“Sergeant Leem.” There seemed to be undue emphasis on the rank.

“This is Jako Nighthawk, and he’s been assigned to you as a scout recruit. He’s short at least two pistols. Have one of your corporals go through his gear and fill out what else he needs. Have the corporal go over with Jako what is required this evening. Have him spend however long it takes to have the recruit know what’s required.”

Jako swallowed. Like as not he had just earned his first enemy with these men! And a corporal! That wasn’t good! No corporal was going to be happy telling a solitary recruit what to do!

V

Noia accepted the captain’s salute. She could tell from his expression what was going to come next.

“The _Vengeance_ , Admiral, performed...” the captain shrugged his shoulders expressively. “Better by far than any ship I’ve ever commanded.”

“And the test?”

“I hired three of the new style fishing boats. I gave them three palm widths to get away from _Vengeance_. One captain went straight downwind, while the other two turned upwind. Those two realized that staying together would make them an easier target, so they diverged. I had them both in a palm width after I started after them.

“I turned downwind and had the third before they could get over the horizon and before dark.”

“Fireseed consumption?”

“Lady, we fired two shots, one each for the first two boats, and the third boat struck when we closed with it. Forty pounds.”

“We have enough fireseed to fill your magazines, though?”

“Barely, Countess.”

“Good.” Noia looked around the room. A half dozen others were within earshot. “You may all go now, even you, Phelen. Please stay, Captain.”

Phelen bowed with good grace and led the exodus.

“Captain Rellin, join me. What you are to see is a secret given to me by the High King personally.”

“Countess?” He was startled to hear she knew his real name as much as by offering up one of the High King’s secrets.

“Yes, it’s true. And moreover, there is much more that I can’t share with you.

“As you recall, my brother sailed west.”

“The speculation is that he sailed his ship south to the lands that were once the Mexicotál’s,” Captain Rellin added with a nod.

“Speculation,” Noia agreed. She lifted a folded cloth and put the ball that had been covered on a table. “This, however is a representation of the world, as if you were high, very high, in the sky. We are here.” She put her finger on the map where they were.

“North is Echanistra, and its harbor. Further north the High King avers that the coastline becomes very complicated with many islands and inlets. Even further north, there is this island arc, here.” She traced it on the map. “There is a great land mass beyond, reachable through the Ice Lands. The Ice Lands are, even the High King agrees, extremely dangerous.”

“Yes, Lady Noia!” her captain agreed.

“But these islands are ice-free for most of the year, except in the depths of winter. For right now, we’re not going to worry about that, although at some point we will have to explore there to see if our assumptions are valid.

“Here, Captain,” she said, moving her finger far south on the map. “Here are a group of islands. The High King suspects that they are inhabited, but he has no way to be sure. They are closest to Baytown.”

“They should be closer to South Bay,” the captain told her.

“I know, but this is something the High King showed me. Understand that the ground we walk on is round, like a ball. The High King says that we should mark positions on a ball and measure the distance with string, and that it will make sense then. I’ve done that and all I have is a headache.”

“And you want me to do what?”

“You will go to these islands. They are at least three moon quarters sail from the mainland, and that’s if you have favorable winds. It will be dangerous.”

“And you want me to do what when we get there?” he repeated.

“Look around, but you must be very careful. Clearly if they have a presence there, you would be attacked if you are detected and probably overwhelmingly attacked. Stand in towards land towards sunset, stand away towards dawn.”

He smiled slightly. “I have some experience in that.”

“So I thought. I never told you that your heart’s desire would be safe or easy.”

“In fact, you said the opposite.”

“Just so you know.”

“Just so you know, Lady Noia, that this is worth more to me than anything except my personal honor. As it is worth at least that to my sailors.”

“And if you perform this reconnaissance for me, I promise you will never again have no choice about whether or not to sail.”

He shook his head. “My lady, don’t make a statement like that. There may come a time when the realm rests on such a sailing. No, King Freidal–and you–have been fair to me, and now I am your man, to command as you would any other of lower rank. I may aspire to higher rank, as any may, but that is as it may be.”

“Well, then the good news and after that, the bad news about these islands. The High King says the good news is that they stretch from southeast to northwest, thus when you are sailing southwest, they present a relatively large target. The bad news is that the ocean is huge.

“There is a big island, to the southeast, it is perhaps a hundred miles on a side. There is a cluster of islands covering about the same area about thirty miles to their northwest. Another thirty miles northwest of that grouping is another island, about half or a third the size of the big island. About seventy or eighty miles northwest of that is another cluster of islands, about the same size as the third island.

“To make life interesting, these islands are, the High King says, volcanoes like the one southeast of Echanistra, except about three times as tall. Of course, the ocean there is very deep, and so the tallest of those volcanic peaks are about the same height in appearance.

“To make life more interesting still, the islands may have an indigenous population. Odds are they are or at least recently were cannibals–that is, they eat human beings.”

The captain recoiled. “Not even the Mexicotál God-King was that barbaric!”

“Yes, well, according to the High King we’ll want to be very careful exploring in this ocean as the natives may not be as civilized as the God-King’s people were.”

“Are there any more surprises?”

“Almost certainly. And what those surprises are, I can’t begin to imagine. The High King says there is one really good harbor in these islands, and that’s on the third island, the second largest of the bunch. It’s on the south side of the island and is the most likely place to find our enemies.

“Oh, yes, when Duke Tuck was asked to comment on these islands, he recommended staying off the northern shores as much as possible, and if you go along the northern coasts, to stay well away from land. There is nothing north of those islands but ocean for thousands of miles and the waves, Duke Tuck tells me, can be huge.”

“It is amazing how much he knows,” the captain told her.

“And the High King, to my face, told me that this knowledge is beyond secret, that no one is to be told of where it was obtained and that asking ‘How’ is treason.”

The sea captain grimaced. “Every time I think I work for reasonable men–and women–there is something like this.”

“That’s because, Captain, there are people, including those closest to us and those we least expect, who are plotting our downfall. Those men–and women–are cold, brutal butchers, who will stop at nothing to destroy us. They don’t care how many people they kill or how they kill them. Whether they strike us down with plague or blow up our towns with fireseed, stab us in a dark alley or poison us at breakfast or dinner, they are unmitigated evil.”

He nodded. “Truly, that is what I do not understand the most, Countess Noia. Small plots, where one person seeks to gain advantage over another–I understand why people do such things. It goes against my honor, but there are always honorless men and women. But to plot the deaths of so many, in such foul ways–it seems incredible that any true man could possibly take part in such a plot.”

“King Freidal and Queen Elspeth feel that these men and women are being offered positions of power and wealth that no one could otherwise aspire to. As you, I couldn’t imagine sacrificing my honor to achieve such a goal at the cost they seem willing to exact of the rest of us.”

She tapped the map again. “Two thousand miles there, Captain, two thousand miles back. Another thousand miles cruising around. Most of a moon there, and more than a moon to return. Another moon or so on station. Three moons if you are lucky.

“Captain, if it looks like they are there in force, you are to return as quickly as possible, even with little or no knowledge about them. It will be enough to know that they are there. You must return, Captain, at all costs.”

Rellin grinned jauntily. “Countess, you may be sure that I place an extraordinarily high value on my life, and I value my crewmen’s lives even more. We will come back, I swear it!”

“Sail when you wish. Do not tell anyone where you are going and if you lose a man over the side when you reach those islands, he is a traitor and is to be killed on sight.”

The captain nodded soberly. “I have already told the crew that we will shortly undertake a shakedown cruise down to South Bay and return. I have gotten with the mapmakers that Queen Elspeth sent and we have maps of the coastline. I’ve told them that we will be spot-checking those maps as we go south.”

“Put in to Baytown without telling anyone where you are bound, make sure your food and water is in good shape. King Freidal is expecting you.”

“It shall be as you command, Countess!”


	5. Skirmishes

I

Countess Judy of Tecpan walked from her private apartments into the main hallway of the third floor of the palace. There were five men standing alertly in the hallway, their weapons at port arms, ready for any sort of trouble or mission that she might order.

“I'm going down and drag my husband away from his cronies,” she told the sergeant who commanded the guard detail.

The sergeant grinned. “Corporal Yulyx and Private Meritos will remain here, Lady Count. Privates Heraclius, Demios and I will accompany you, Countess.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Aeneios.”

She turned to one of the two guards who would be staying at her door. “Yulyx, you were with me at Tarr-Dombra. Now all I see you do are the soft jobs.”

He bobbed his head. “Countess, after that day, I believe I earned soft jobs.”

“After that day, we all earned soft jobs. I'm glad someone got their wish.”

He bobbed his head again and blushed.

She started forward, trailing the two guards and their sergeant. Once upon a time her thoughts would have dwelled on the necessity of having guards close by every time she went out; now it was old hat and simple prudence.

So much was different these days! If she'd been asked the day before this all had started if she would be comfortable, day in and day out, wearing floor-length skirts she'd have made a rude noise–not possible! She had been a tomboy, who loved going camping with her family. Jeans and a heavy flannel shirt for her!

But there were things you could do in long skirts that you couldn't possibly have done with jeans. Her hands brushed her skirt, feeling the weapons she carried with her, close to hand, all of the time.

The reason she was out and about at this time of night was an entirely different matter. She would never tell her husband of this; certainly one of her officers would never dream of broaching the subject with him. She pretended to be eager to drag him back to their private apartment–what the common soldiers took away from her apparent eagerness was their business, not hers.

Gamelin was a fine man, but the plague sickness had nearly killed him. The priests of Galzar had been apologetic when she'd brought the subject up. “It happens, Countess. Usually a man returns to normal quickly–other times the wounds are deeper than they appear. Nearly always, Countess, they heal over time.”

So, she pretended eagerness to buoy her husband's spirits. The silly goof thought she was concerned about his drinking, when in fact, in that he was a paragon of virtue, considering the times.

Her party descended the staircase, and turned hard right, across the entrance hall from the main doors to the palace, closed and barred at this time of night. Two men guarded the inside, and four more were outside. A dozen steps away was the guard room, the door open, letting the sound of a soldier's tale drift into the hall.

She had hardly started across the wide hall when a flood of a dozen officers appeared in front of her. Gamelin grinned, reached out and drew her to him. “Countess, excellent timing! We were quite finished.”

“And you can still walk in a straight line,” she said playfully. “It was excellent timing!”

He kissed her, long enough to get her interest going. “Watered wine, Countess wife! Not even enough to warm my innards.” Some of her husband's officers essayed small smiles. A couple of them chuckled.

“I imagine I can help with that,” she replied. There were more laughs from her husband's staff.

He stepped to one side, to let the others pass. The leader, Colonel Tryas, gestured at one of the door guards. The guard promptly started tugging on the leaf on his side, while the other guard started opening his side.

The colonel took a step forward; it had to have been the signal, Judy thought instantly. A shattering volley of gunfire poured through the door. A half dozen of the gathered officers went down in heaps, including the colonel.

Judy didn't think; she never did in this sort of situation. She took a half dozen steps forward, sliding her right hand inside her dress, pulling out the double-barreled sawed-off shotgun hidden under her skirts. It had a fourteen-inch barrel and a pistol grip.

She dipped as she reached where she could see outside. A dozen men were running forward, waving rifles. Coldly, she let loose with both barrels of the shotgun. She continued her dip, sliding the shotgun towards the other side of the room, while at the same time pulling its mate from the other side of her skirts.

She fired as soon as the weapon was level; the dozen men running forward were suddenly only three. One of her husband's officers got off a single pistol shot before he ducked to the other side. Judy slid the second shotgun the other way, grabbed the colonel's tunic with two hands and tugged him out of the line of fire.

She left him, picked up the shotgun and spilled the empties onto the floor, and thumbed two more from a inside dress pocket. Seeing her reload, the man across the way held up her other shotgun and bobbed it up and down. She went to her pocket again, and tossed two shells to him, hoping he got the message: there weren't many where those came from.

Colonel Tryas sat up, shaking his head, his left arm bleeding copiously. “Am I dead?”

“No,” she told him, her attention focused on the door. Around them guards boiled out of the guard room, but it was a short boil; barely a dozen were there.

Judy looked at the colonel, who was still shaking his head. “Countess...I know what I felt. I felt four bullets strike; one in the side, one in my shoulder, one in the arm and the last in my belly. I have no idea how I can still be talking, much less sitting up.”

She glanced at him again and laughed. “Colonel, I hope the wound in your arm isn't serious, because if it isn't serious you're the luckiest man in the High King’s lands. The belly 'wound' looks like a glancing bullet that hit your belt buckle. The shoulder wound appears to have also been a glancing blow off a buckle on your sword. Your sword appears to have taken a solid strike on the pommel.”

He moved his arm and spoke wonderingly. “I don't even think it hit the bone.”

One of the soldiers started tending to him; her sergeant stood next to Judy, the guard sergeant next to him.

“Countess, your orders?”

“Where is your officer?” she asked, looking at the guard sergeant instead.

“He went outside to check the perimeter guards half a palm width ago. I'm thinking we'll not be seeing him again.”

“Send two men to the armory. They are to gather up anyone they see on the way. Have them bring as many shotguns and all the ammunition for them they can carry. Tell them to hurry.”

“Yes, Countess!”

She pointed men to where she wanted them to go, while on the other side of the doorway, Gamelin was getting those on his side set.

Outside was a sudden shrill scream of terror, and then an even more shrill scream of pain. For the first time Judy could hear the sound of the mob. She moved quickly to the door, and popped her head around the corner, a few feet from the ground.

After a heartbeat, she rose and over Gamelin's sudden protest, stepped forward outside.

She stood on the flagstones at the top of the four steps that led up to the palace. She stared out at the square, filling rapidly with hundreds, probably thousands, of enraged citizens of her town.

Gamelin joined her and after a heartbeat and spoke to her. “You aren't going to try to stop this?”

“Gamelin, as quick as I was, those men were dead before I got out the door.”

It was as she said; there were a few clumps of people kicking unrecognizable objects on the ground; those objects had long since stopped looking human. People were now regarding their silent leader, and were coming forward now, roaring their anger.

Suddenly, a man was pushed forward, hale, although with some bruises. He was nude, trying to hide his privates with his hands.

“We found this one hiding in the fountain, Countess,” one of the larger men who held the unfortunate fellow with one huge paw. “He says he's one of your officers.”

The crowd noise sank rapidly, everyone craning to get a better look at this drama.

Judy inclined her head and then addressed the man. “You are who?”

“Lieutenant Delfos, the watch officer.”

“How did you come to be in the fountain?”

“I couldn't see any of the Ruthani perimeter guards; I went looking for them. I saw a man, dead in a shadowed spot. I turned and saw men coming from two streets into the square. They were armed and they came confidently. I looked around and saw the door guards were missing as well.”

“You were in the square; I understand that. The question was, though, how did you come to be in the fountain?”

“I hid, Countess.”

“And your clothes?”

“Countess, if they'd have seen my uniform they would have known I was an officer. They would have taken me and tortured me.”

Judy's face remained impassive. “I'd hide what you're hiding if I was standing in the company of real men myself.” She turned to the big man holding him. “I don't suppose you could lay your hands on a pair of pants and a shirt for this man?”

“Mine wouldn't fit him, Countess.”

“Oh, he's not fit, that's for sure,” she said. “I don't think the fit is important. Just that he covers up his...inadequacies.”

“Yes, Countess,” the man said, bobbing his head. He gestured to someone and Judy saw a boy of thirteen or fourteen pelt away from the palace.

“Delfos, you will take the clothes you are given. You will go to the quartermaster in the main barracks. You will tell him that you've been relieved but that he's to give you as much food as you can carry.

“You will then set your feet northwards. Don't stop until you reach the snow.”

The man blinked. “Countess! They would have killed me!”

Gamelin spoke. “Galzar has a strict code, Delfos. You can demand a soldier's trial. I can snap my fingers and have a half dozen of my staff here in an instant. Of course, three of them are dead and more were wounded because you ran away. They might decide to shoot you. I hope they do.

“You have a choice, Delfos, something you didn't give any of the men who died here tonight. If I were you, I'd take my wife's offer. I'd do it quickly, in case some of the men who died here tonight have friends who would like to kill you.”

The boy was back with pants that would have fit two ordinary men and a shirt that could have done duty as a tent. Delfos was roughly dressed.

When it was done, Judy gestured to the big man. “If you'd see to it, I'd like to make sure he's alive by the time he gets to the main barracks. After that...don't bother yourself. In the morning, come to the palace and ask for me.”

The man beamed. His countess was famous for the swift–but fair–justice that she meted out. And just as famous for her swift punishments for those who didn’t do well.

The man took Delfos by the arm again and dragged him towards the town's main gate.

He was an awesome pathmaker. Judy followed in the path he made until she was close to the fountain. She climbed up on the low wall that circled it.

There were tens of thousands by then in the main square; it was packed and more crowded in every heartbeat. She stood on the square’s fountain, the usual place she spoke from.

Sergeant Leem stood in the way, and he bowed to Judy. “Countess, a word in your ear, if I may.”

Judy shrugged and leaned close to listen to him. “They also attacked the Special Intelligence Unit. Pinyon and I stay with them when we are here. They came in stupid...single file. Pinyon killed the trailing men, I was responsible for the last man in front.” Leem grinned wolfishly. “He signaled for his men to stop and get set. He turned to look and found me instead and otherwise alone. He died like the rest.”

“You sure that’s all of them?”

“Yes, Countess.”

“Take your Ruthani scouts; find out where they came from. Don’t follow very far, and be wary of an ambush. Report back to me alone.” He grinned and stuck out his tongue and then faded away into the night.

She climbed up on the well curbing and turned to face the crowd. There was a quick cheer, but she lifted on hand and it subsided quickly.

“Again, you see our enemies,” she said, raising her voice. “They bring the plague, they come in the dead of night, sneaking like desert creatures afraid of the light.

“But, I have a secret weapon. You, my people! You, the people of Tecpan, are my secret weapon! As long as you exist, they know they haven't won. They could kill me, they could kill my husband...but you would still be here, as strong as ever. They can't win, my people! Not so long as you are here!

“One day they will realize that it is you who will defeat them. Then they will set their wills to your destruction as they did the Olmecha. We have to be strong! We have to be ready! But then, what did we show them tonight? We are strong! We are ready!”

The crowd roared their pleasure.

She spoke again. “They would have had weapons! I will give it back, but if you have one, bring it to me!”

A moment later a long-barreled firearm was handed her. She held it above her head, one-handed.

“This is your enemy, people of Tecpan! This is a musket! What the God-King armed some of his people with, before the High King and Duke Tuck beat the stuffing out of them!”

There were more cheers. “They didn't even give their plotters decent weapons!”

The were roars of laughter and the people started cheering again. Then the chanting started, perhaps fifty thousand voices by then screaming, “Never Again!” over and over.

After a finger width, Judy raised her hand above her head again. The chanting slowed and then stopped.

“It's late. I imagine the square sweepers have a spot of work to do. I'll pay them twice for working to clean up the square before dawn. Now, my people, we need to get some sleep!”

There was laughter and more cheers, but for a change, the crowd was headed out of the square instead of into it.

After another finger width Gamelin helped his wife down from the fountain, offering his arm. They walked in silence back to the palace. The watch relief company was now in place, Colonel Tryas was watching the last of the dead members of his staff being placed on stretchers, even though he needed one himself.

Judy watched with a stony face, before turning to her husband. The plans had been well-laid but she had hesitated fearing Gamelin’s reaction. It couldn’t wait any longer.

“This an intolerable insult, Judy,” he said.

She hardened her heart. “Indeed so, my husband. Ride to the citadel. Stop first at the Heavy Weapons Company. Tell Captain Gryllos to execute his orders without delay. Then tell fifteen companies of the Second Southern Mounted to prepare to deploy at dawn, the day after tomorrow.”

“Who will lead, Judy?”

Judy tried to not scowl. “We will; their brigadier can stay here and defend Tecpan. Go now!”

“Yes, Countess!”

Well, at least she had kept to their agreement. For the next few days, at least.

II

“I’m Roric,” the sergeant told Jako. “Just that. I’m an old fart, and I don’t want to be reminded of it. Leem can call me ‘sergeant’ because I don’t feel like beating him black and blue to get him to stop.”

Jako didn’t sniff in derision. The sergeant was twenty years older than Leem, and far, far more rotund, but there was an air of competency about him that he had quickly learned to recognize among the Hostigi.

“Corporal Lesthius, take a gander at Jako’s equipment. If he’s missing anything, see that he has it by this evening. Then go over any deficiencies with him.”

“Yes, Roric!”

The sergeant turned to Jako. “Scout recruit, eh? A bit old to be a recruit.”

“You have to start someplace, Roric.”

“Ah! A great many continue to call me sergeant, even when told not to. That’s because you’re new, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Roric. I want to do my best for the High King, Duke Tuck and anyone else over me.”

“Ever been on a horse?”

“A horse?” Jako tried not to show any expression again. “I’ve eaten a few horses.”

“That won’t do. We’ll be moving fast and you’ll have to ride. Get Jumper.” The last was directed to one of the sergeant’s men, who jumped up. He was back in a few finger widths with a young man, easily six or eight years younger than Jako.

“Jumper, it is time for another riding lesson.”

“I can outrun a horse.”

“You can outrun a horse,” the sergeant agreed with the stripling. “But you can’t outrun a herd of them. Mounted infantry move very fast, young man. On the march to Three Hills we covered two hundred miles in three days. True, our horses were mostly fit for the soup kettles after that, but an army can’t do that running.”

“No, Roric.”

“But you are lucky! You won’t be receiving the riding lesson today! No, you get to teach the lesson to Jako here! He’s never been on a horse. He has to be able to ride tomorrow without falling off.”

What followed was hideous torture. You ignored what you were eating smelled like. You can’t ignore it when you’re sitting on top of the beast. He didn’t fall off, although he nearly did twice.

He felt terrible when he finally returned with the stripling to Roric. His thighs were raw meat, he walked funny, and he was no longer certain the ground was firm beneath his feet. The sergeant took one look at Jako and laughed. “Jumper, I forgot to mention that you weren’t to cripple him. He rides with us tomorrow.”

The young man bobbed his head. “I have some of the salve Lady Puma gave me. I have hardly used any, so I can spare some for him.”

“Fine, give him some. Jako, go with Jumper, get some of the salve. Use it; don’t try to tough it out like so many Ruthani would.” The look he gave Jumper made it quite clear who he meant. “When you are finished, recruit, return to me, and then your corporal will finish getting you set.”

Jako might have made a mistake about bear grease–once–but he was more careful now. As they were about to enter a large adobe building he cleared his throat. “These are officer’s quarters.”

Jumper laughed. “Nobody told you? I’m Captain’s Gryllos’ junior aide. A very junior officer. There are two dozen of us ensigns–not old enough to be proper officers yet. But if we work hard, one day we will be officers too. Someday, I want to stand in front of Duke Tuck, or maybe even the High King, and have him look me in the eye and tell me I’ve done well. Then take a knee to be rewarded.”

“The trick is not getting killed,” Jako said a little roughly.

“If I get killed, I receive no praise. I am Ruthani–I don’t plan on being easy to kill.”

The young man handed him a leather pouch that bulged. “Lady Puma is Leem’s full-blood sister. She wanted me to come serve with her Field Intelligence unit. Captain Gryllos has already received those words from Duke Tuck and she has not; I’m staying here. Rub the salve on your thighs; it will take the pain away and help heal the galls. Whatever you do, be careful after you use it. Wash your hands very well; as well as pain, it takes away pleasure, and you’ll have trouble pleasuring yourself for a day–or two–if you forget.”

“Urk!” Jako said.

“Don’t use it more than once a day, and don’t use more than what you need. This is very powerful medicine.”

Jako returned to his new barracks, found the corporal waiting for him, and was shown his bed. “We packed your things,” the corporal told him. “We’ll be leaving before dawn in the morning, so go to sleep early. I’ll show you how to load your horse in the morning.”

Jako thanked him. These fellows were a lot nicer than the scouts had been. His brother-in-law had been popular with them and some had seen it as their duty to antagonize Jako. He used the salve sparingly, and keeping his hands far as possible from his vitals. The salve did seem to work, and he washed his hands as thoroughly as he’d washed himself after the bear grease.

He carefully looked through his gear. His weapons were in a locked cabinet, one of a series of cabinets, which ran down the center of the barracks. His weapons were in the one closest to his bunk. He’d been given the key and told not to lose it. As if he would! He’d been told that the cabinet contained the basic combat load of ammunition–that was a hundred rifle rounds, forty shotgun shells, and sixty rounds for his two pistols.

One of the others had noticed him looking at his weapons and come over. “You’re the new man?”

“Yes, Jako Nighthawk.”

“Tertium, out of one of the old Great Kingdoms, Hos-Harphax. Luckily, I wasn’t old enough to die with our Great King’s army when he tried to fight the High King. Let me show you what you’ve got.”

Tertium explained each bandolier. “You’ll see that there is a letter written on each, R, P or S. Rifle, pistol or shotgun. Make sure you only put the right type of round in each bandolier...you don’t want to hear what someone would say after you go and get yourself killed if you put pistol rounds in with your rifle rounds.”

“I’ll try hard to be careful,” he told the other drily. “I’ll try harder not to get killed.”

“Tomorrow we ride with full kit. Your rifle fits in a sheath on the right side of your horse. The shotgun on the left, and the pistols in holsters on your belt. The pouches also attach to your belt. You don’t charge your weapons until told to. If you have charged weapons when they are supposed to be empty they will seriously think about sending you home. The same thing if your weapons are empty when they are supposed to be charged unless you’re out of rounds. Strip a body, if necessary. Don’t take ammunition from a wounded man, not ever. A wounded man can offer them to you, mind, but you never take.

“One last thing. We are going into the field tomorrow. Listen closely to all the orders being passed. If you don’t understand one, ask someone; we were all new once. This is Captain Gryllos’ Heavy Weapons Company, given to him by countess herself after Captain Legios went down–and Captain Legios got the company from the High King and Grand Marshal Hestophes.

“We are one of the foremost units in the army of the High King and Mexico. We’ve never had to retreat; we’ve never lost a battle or had to yield our ground. If you try to run, you won’t likely live more than a step or two.”

“I won’t run,” Jako said seriously.

“Get something to eat and then get some sleep. They haven’t said anything about our mission, but they don’t re-shoe all of our horses at once if we’re going to Xipototec to exercise with Duke Tuck’s mortar companies. I expect we’ll be gone for a while. And they don’t send us to quiet places to rest and relax...expect a fight or two.”

The meal was stew, a surprisingly good stew. He took two helpings and then settled down on his bunk. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

*** ** ***

Waking up was abrupt. Whistles shrilled, and sergeants and corporals were in the barracks rolling men out of their beds at the least sign of delay.

“Pistols and shotguns!” Sergeant Roric roared. “Up and outside, damn your eyes! Now! Now!”

Outside was chaos. It seemed like the barracks was a nest of ants, stirred into activity. A half dozen companies of mounted infantry were formed and left, while whistles continued to screech and bugles blared alarm.

Sergeant Roric stood in front of their platoon. After a finger width, Jumper came running up to him and whispered something. Jako had seen scowls before. The scowl on the sergeant’s face took “scowl” to a new level.

The sergeant wheeled and faced the platoon. “A short while ago, soldiers of Becal attacked the palace, intending no doubt, to slaughter all within. They didn’t bring a tenth enough of their pathetic soldiers to do the job. Not one lived to cross the threshold of the palace.”

He paused to take a breath, then, in a volume-defying yell, he screamed, “Tecpan!”

The men screamed in response.

“The countess can’t hear you!” the sergeant yelled, shaking a rifle over his head. “Tecpan!” It was double or triple the volume of the first cry. The answering scream wasn’t just from their platoon; thousands of men joined in. The sound echoed off the mountains miles away.

Jako wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the hero-worship of the countess. He didn’t really understand, not how a woman, barely husband-high, had accepted a county from the High King. She’d killed a lot of men, supposedly, with a shovel. Jako would have shot them. Fifty or sixty? He considered himself a strong man. Ten, maybe fifteen, if there was nothing else handy. And some of the stories said maybe as a many as a hundred. Soldier’s stories!

However, when you are in the middle of thousands of men screaming blood-thirsty fury, perforce you scream as well.

The ranks held, although the buzz of conversation was loud. And angry. Very angry.

Time passed, with only one announcement. “We had three dead, five wounded. We have no idea of how many soldiers of Becal died–the city rose and tore them apart in the square.” That was from Captain Gryllos and his words were greeted with blood-curdling cheers.

Jako saw a man in far fancier armor than most ride up to the captain. His voice was clear and loud. “Captain Gryllos. Execute your orders without delay!”

“Yes, sir!”

The captain wheeled to the company. “I don’t know about you all, but I’m not a bit sleepy.” There was a roar of agreement from the men around Jako.

“A half palm width! Have your gear ready to load. Tube teams, you have first priority on horses. We will be on the road in a palm width! Big!”

Jako was surprised to see his brother-in-law off to one side. “Sir!”

“See to the troops!”

“Sir! Yes, sir!”

Sergeant Roric turned to them. “Two fingers, you men! You should be ready anyway! I will kick you a new asshole if you’re later than that!”

The activity was frantic. When Jako was back outside, with his new friend cautioning him. “We suck hind-tit, those of us not assigned to a tube. They’ll be ready first, and woe betide any of rest of us who aren’t ready by then! Remember what I told you! Rifle to the right, shotgun on the left. Your gear is in two panniers–they go behind you.”

“I’m ready,” Jako told him.

“We’ll make a Heavy Weapons Company trooper of you yet!”

III

The young woman, once known as Judy Bondi and now known as Her Grace, Countess of Tecpan, the duchy of Mexico, swung down from her horse and walked over to where her husband and Baron Vosper waited.

Vosper waved ahead. “My lady...I don’t know what to say.”

Ahead of them, about a mile away at the foot of the ridge they had stopped for the night on, were about ten thousand soldiers lined up in the bright early morning sun in ten long rows, clearly waiting for them. Since they weren't her troops, they had to be the rebels and they were clearly looking for a fight.

“We should have scouted better, Judy,” her husband, Gamelin, Count of the Trygath, said, sounding unhappy. He had been one of many who’d wanted their scouts out widely, but Judy had insisted otherwise, wanting to make a sudden, swift, surprise strike at an outpost of their enemies.

“You have been surprised once again, Countess,” the former sergeant and now a baron added.

“I can see that they are out there,” she told them.

“We have but fifteen hundred men,” Gamelin told her.

“So it would seem. Although we do have the high ground, yes? Isn’t that supposed to be worth something?”

“To advance, we will have to attack them,” Gamelin expounded. “Yes, right now we can see them all lined up, nice and neat. But Judy, you can see where they’ve dug firing positions.”

“I see that, yes,” she told him, her voice neutral.

Gamelin growled something under his breath. “I thought you would be more angry,” he told his wife. “You have been belaboring the fact that you are always surprised and not the other way around now for moon after moon.”

“That’s true, Gamelin. It’s about the only thing I’ve told you that’s true lately. I was complaining loud and long about how I was going to march out one of these days and surprise our enemies.”

“Not today,” her husband snapped.

Vosper on the other hand had a quizzical look on his face. His gaze turned to the troops behind him. He’d been uneasy since they’d left Tecpan. He’d blamed it on general sloppiness of the troops, and when he’d wanted to tell some of the captains to at least close up, Countess Judy had said no, to let them straggle.

His gaze dwelled a little longer on the their column and then he laughed. “Ha! You stole the idea from the Grand Marshal!”

Gamelin turned to look at his former sergeant. “What idea?”

“Lady Judy, it’s not nice to fool your friends!” Vosper said, slapping his thigh and laughing loudly.

She was serious. “They have spies everywhere. And it’s not that I don’t trust you or Gamelin, but both of you have a habit of sharing secrets with your trusted subordinates. You know how subtle their spies are...they are frequently our most trusted people.”

“What are you two talking about?” Gamelin asked.

“Lady Judy has borrowed Grand Marshal Hestophes’ idea. The idea that won him the Battle of Three Hills.”

“A thousand cannon won the battle,” Gamelin grumped.

“That and the God-King’s Captain-General’s belief that he faced fifty thousand Hostigi militia, when in truth they faced a hundred twenty thousand men–and only one in six were militia,” Vosper reminded him.

“Husband, each of the companies that marched out of Tecpan two days ago were reinforced. I talked to each captain privately, telling them that I was reinforcing his company because I’d heard good things about him and that I intended to use his company at the peak of the attack, and he could use the reinforcements. Each thought I talked only to him, but in fact, I talked to all of them. There aren’t fifteen hundred men behind us–there are nearly four thousand.”

“You lied to me?” Gamelin seemed stunned.

Judy shook her head. “Hard-headed husband of mine, I didn’t lie to you about this. I told you we marched with fifteen companies–you commanded it, after all. You supplied the number, not me. I simply didn’t tell you about the augmentations.”

“You don’t trust me!” He whirled and started to stalk off. Judy came up behind him and took him around the throat with her arm, applying pressure and brought him up short.

She put her hand on his chin and forced his head around to look at the soldiers who followed her husband everywhere he went. “There, husband-mine, those are the ones that I don’t trust. You speak our deepest secrets to that gaggle of hangers-on, half of whom I wouldn’t trust with giving me the time.”

She had forced him to look at the two dozen senior officers who’d attached themselves to his entourage.

“Husband, I trust you, okay? When we left Tecpan none knew where we marched to. Two nights ago I told you where I intended to go. Today...well, you can see what we face. Either you told our enemies, my husband, or someone you told has told them.”

She let him go, and twirled her hand over her hand, a “come now” gesture. Another man, slightly rotund, but competent in appearance, came at her call.

“My lady,” Baron Hollar said with some enthusiasm.

“Baron, is your wagon ready?”

“Yes, Countess. It is ready. Do you have prisoners for us to interrogate?”

“You will go over to my husband’s staff. You will take them all into custody; shoot any who try to run. Put them in your wagon.”

Gamelin yelped. “Those are loyal men! I know them all!”

Judy turned to him, angrier than she’d ever been with him. “One of the first things you told me, Gamelin, was about the curse of the Trygathi–that they plot and plot. You have to stop and think now, before you say or do something unfortunate. Either you told our enemies we were coming this way, or someone you told did. You and I both know you told those men,” she waved at the gaggle of dandies.

“So, who would you rather have us suspect, husband?”

He stood breathing hard. “I can’t believe you don’t trust me!”

She swiveled slightly, and used a leg sweep to put him on the ground. She reached down and grabbed one of his ears and dragged him in the direction she wanted to go, but wouldn’t let him stand.

She knew she was humiliating him–a year ago, he’d been as close to Death’s Door as a man can be and not have gone through. He was nominally recovered, but his full strength hadn’t returned. She forced him to the brow of the hill and the array of the force that opposed them.

“Do you think that’s an accident, Gamelin?” she said angrily.

He subsided. “Judy...I don’t know what to say. Those men are my friends. We’ve shared...” his voice trailed away.

“You’ve shared time in Tecpan with most of those men, husband. For some of them, this is their first time in the field. I’ve already heard complaints from some about the trials and tribulations of field duty–a few days from the town.”

There was a stir as Baron Hollar drew down on some twenty men, mostly nobles themselves. Two men started to draw their own weapons in response, only to find themselves the center of attention of nearly fifty of Baron Hollar’s field gendarmes, all armed with the double-barreled shotguns. The men of her husband's staff reconsidered.

Judy had loosened her grip on her husband, now she let go to and helped him ti stand up. “Gamelin, I swear we will treat them with due consideration.”

Gamelin nodded at Baron Hollar. He couldn’t help a grim smile. “The same consideration he treated the sister of the King of the Olmecha with?”

“No more and no less, Gamelin. How can they complain if we treat them the same as a princess of the Olmecha?”

He sighed. “I can’t describe it. For a year now I've felt–inadequate. Other men go and do their duty and I sit on our balcony wishing I had the strength to go with them. This is my first venture into the field in nearly a year.”

“Gamelin, you were in a particularly nasty battle and you took a particularly nasty wound. Forget everything else about the nature of the battle or the nature of the wound. You’ve felt bad about it and that’s no surprise–and no disgrace. You’ve found a slew of men who want your favor, and they do nothing but fill your head with empty words. Ignore them.”

Men were being disarmed and moved to Baron Hollar’s portable jail. Judy waved. “The innocent will receive an apology from myself and from Duke Tuck. Don’t you speak a word to them! This was my idea; you have nothing to apologize for. Now, I think, we need to get ready for an attack.”

“They will never come up this hill,” Gamelin said, regaining a bit of his composure. “Even if you had your the numbers they originally thought, you’d be too tough to beat on this hill.”

“You’d think that, Gamelin. I would think that as well. Duke Tuck would never have agreed to such a stupid plan, knowing it at once for a trap. But those men have masters who don’t take well to failure. No, they will try the hill, so they can at least say that they tried.”

“What a waste of men,” Gamelin said sadly.

Judy smiled slightly. “You have no idea, dear Gamelin. It’s a terrible thing when you decide to cut someone out of the plan. This was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Please, my husband, don’t hate me before the day’s over.”

“Why would I hate you?”

It could have been the signal, the men below raised their weapons in preparation to fire. There was a sudden crash of rifles in response. Gamelin walked forward and saw that one flank of the soldiers from Becal was shrouded now in powder smoke. Even as he watched, he could see sergeants and officers trying to get their men oriented in the direction the attack was coming from. Mostly they died as the fire had switched to continuous, heavily directed at officers and NCOs.

“That,” Judy said evenly, “is the real reason I wasn’t concerned. We coordinated this with King Xyl. That’s his brother down there, General Cambon. They really, really, _really_ hate those from Becal like we never will.” Not mentioning that General Cambon and Judy had some history.

It was grim; there was no other word for it. After the third volley ten thousand Olmecha rose to their feet, screaming blood vengeance. The men from Becal knew what that meant and promptly broke, starting to flee west. Five hundred rifles lying in wait in that direction crashed as one, sending them reeling back in shock.

Five hundred more rifles thundered from their rear and men started throwing down the weapons. Even at the distance they were on their hill, they could hear the words, “Oath to Galzar!” To Gamelin’s surprise the attack stopped almost instantly, and prisoners were started to be gathered up. It had been quick, only about a fifth of them had been killed or wounded.

Gamelin sneaked a glance at his wife, who grinned at him. “I bet that was a surprise!” she chortled.

He could only sigh. “I wish you’d have trusted me.”

“I wish I could have, too. Gamelin, we’ve fed you a dozen secrets of the realm in the last three moons. There’s not one you didn’t share with your cronies.”

He stood looking at her, more stunned than before. “Am I a toy you play with?”

“You are the man I sleep with,” she told him roughly. “I have an expectation that when I tell you something–like that I might be pregnant–you’d keep it to yourself until we were sure. Tanda Havra says I’m wrong to fault you for that, but I don’t know why. I could be wrong, but were I to spread the word that your manhood fails more often than not, you would be greatly upset.”

He paled. “I was sick.”

“And it appears that I have trouble getting, and staying, pregnant. If you ever wish to know in advance again, husband, you will learn to keep your mouth shut.” She waved at the wagon, where Baron Hollar was exhorting the contents of his traveling jail to tell the whole truth, nothing but the truth–and quickly.

“You really don’t trust me, do you?”

“If I didn’t trust you, there is a simple way to solve the problem...give you over to Baron Hollar. You have to relearn some lessons about field security is all.”

She kicked him, but not hard. Even so, he stumbled and fell to his knees. “I made a deal with the High King, in your name. If none of the men Baron Hollar finds to be traitors are from the Trygath, Kalvan won’t send Duke Skranga to the Trygath to seek out more treason.”

Gamelin wiped his mouth. Skranga was a man who always found treason whenever he looked. Men–and women–would die if Skranga went to the Trygath. Not all such deserved it.

“Will you ever trust me again?”

Once again Judy waved at the men in the mobile jail. “When you stop letting men like that sway your better judgment.”

“It seems like they win if we can’t trust each other,” Gamelin observed, as he once again climbed to his feet, watching his wife warily.

“At some point in time, we’ll remove the last of the rot. Over time we will all once again talk too much. Until then, we will need to learn better habits.”

“There remains the issue of all those soldiers at the foot of the hill,” Vosper reminded Judy.

“I read in one of our war histories something that I remember very well. A general was attacked by many more enemies than he had soldiers. His comment when asked by them to surrender was ‘Nuts!’ The next thing he said was even more memorable. ‘The poor bastards have us surrounded.’”

“I don’t understand, Judy,” her husband said, clearly vexed.

“The men of Becal have learned a bitter lesson this day. Duke Tuck is skilled at ambushes, and I learned everything I know about battle at his side.”


	6. A Battle

I

Jako was a little surprised when the Heavy Weapons Company rode north, avoiding the city. There were a few whispers until they turned west. Xipototec! The duke’s town. How odd! The seat of the duchy was half the size of Tecpan.

They covered the ground quickly, but not at a gallop which Jako was pleased with for the first six hours. The second six hours he managed to close out the pain and endure. They reached a crossroads and Captain Gryllos saluted Jako’s brother-in-law.

It took a few heartbeats, then Gryllos–and Jako–had turned north with half the company, while Big headed off in another direction.

The sun was nearly at the level of the mountains to the west when they stopped. The man riding next to him, Tertium, was a font of information.

“When we stop, we will take the saddles, weapons and panniers off our horses. You stack them where everyone else does, the saddle goes on top. You’ll see men do fancy loops and put them on their saddles, so they’ll know them in the morning. Use one strand of rope, Jako, across your saddle. No one will use that. In the morning, I’ll show you how to saddle up.”

Tertium showed Jako how to unsaddle. Jako looked at the lines of mostly identical horses. “How do we recognize our horses?”

“We don’t. The left of the horse lines are the horses carrying our weapons. Take the right-most horse when you grab one. Don’t try to claim a horse–that’s something the officers alone can do.”

Jumper appeared from the growing dusk. “Don’t forget that salve, Jako.” He was gone in the same breath.

“You’ve met Jumper?” Tertium asked, curious. 

“Yes, he gave me my first riding lesson. And some salve for the galls.”

Tertium laughed. “That’s the stuff that withers your balls? Be careful!”

“Trust me, I will be.”

“Jumper is the captain’s friend. Not that kind of friend, you understand? Even hint it and you might not like what happens next.”

“Not my business.”

“Jumper holds Leem and Pinyon in high regard among the Ruthani and he respects Lady Puma. He holds Captain Gryllos in very high regard among the Hostigi. He worships the countess, but not her husband. He worships Duke Tuck and his wife and the High King. He has his eyes set on the Grand Marshal’s title and duties.”

“Someday I’ll bounce a son on my knee, and when he goes to sleep, I’ll bed his mother a couple more times that night. That’s the extent of my ambition,” Jako told him.

“Better right now to use that salve. Use some gun rags to wipe your hands afterwards. We don’t have much water and no soap.”

*** ** ***

At least he wasn’t awoken in the middle of the night. No, it was before the first light of dawn. Tertium showed him how to cinch his saddle and place the weapons’ sheaths across the horse. There was a quick meal, then just as it was light enough to see, they were off.

The first day had been hard, but the second was far worse. They didn’t stop until it was nearly dark, and camp was just as carefully made as the night before, although this time Jako was on guard duty. He listened to Tertium explain his duties. Tertium was blunt. “I don’t think it will happen here, but on regular patrols, sometimes Ruthani scouts will try to sneak into camp. You aren’t to shoot anyone without an order from Captain Gryllos. You yell for the sergeant of the guard, yell that there’s an intruder in the camp, and then give your post number. Roric will tell you your number. You don’t make sergeant or become an officer unless you know where all the guard positions are–they are always the same.”

“And while I’m making all this noise, what’s to stop them from shooting me?”

“Make a lot of noise. I am not exaggerating. It doesn’t matter if we are on a war patrol or on an exercise–if you shoot at anyone without permission, you’ll be shot yourself, even if you miss, even if you kill an enemy. Too many men have been killed by overzealous comrades. A lot more than sneaking intruders have killed. If you’re told to shoot, try to shoot the others and not ours.”

Jako shook his head. “So many rules!”

“Those rules exist to see that we have the best chance of going home in the end, and to see our enemies thrown down and destroyed.”

Before Jako knew it, he was marching up and down a short path, fighting sleep and only the salve kept him from screaming in pain. Sleep, when it came, was too short, and the next morning he faced the morning unsure if he could go on. It was a painful thing to face. There were a hundred and fifty men in the column–and he was the weakest!

He was lucky. In the middle of the afternoon they came to a river that was shallow enough to ford and not require a ferry. Roric faced him. “Jumper says that all Plains Ruthani can swim.”

“Yes, Roric. I’ve crossed the Great Father of Rivers many times by swimming.”

“You will be among the first to cross, then. Captain Gryllos will call ‘Swimmers forward.’ You go forward. Loop your belt around the pommel of your saddle.”

“Should I take my belt off first?” Jako asked, too tired to care if he was poking fun at the sergeant.

“It would be best,” the sergeant said without seeming to be offended. “And you’ll do another guard tour tonight for wasting my time. Cross the river. The pickets will have gone first, then the first horse holders, and last the swimmers. Once on the other side, leave your horse saddled, but secured to the horse line. You’ll find a line of swimmers downstream, along a rope. Sergeant Kemnos will command. If anyone falls into a hole and is swept downstream, position yourself as Kemnos tells you to. Whatever you do, don’t let a man get past you. The Heavy Weapons Company has never lost a man crossing a river; you don’t want to be responsible for the first.”

“Yes, Roric.” The sergeant grinned at him, and then the crossing started. Jako watched with interest. A half dozen men went first, vanishing into cover when they reached the other side. They left their horses in the care of just one man. Then two horse holders crossed and Jako could see the captain watching their progress. One of the men across the river waved and it was Jako’s turn.

“Swimmers forward!” About fifteen of them crossed, one at a time. They secured their horses, and then Sergeant Kemnos surprised Jako. He hadn’t seen the man dragging a rope with him. They went about a hundred yards downstream, and men moved along the rope, spreading themselves out. Kemnos nodded curtly at Jako. Jako was pretty sure that was a “Don’t mess up!” message.

The sergeant signaled the captain, and men started across. They went single file, walking next to their horses. No one fell in a hole and soon the company was formed again in march order, but Jako was pleased when they walked their horses.

“I thought we were in a hurry,” he commented to Tertium.

His partner laughed. “We are. First we walk the horses for an hour to dry us off. Horses and men.”

“Is that important?”

“You walk funny, recruit. Are your galls tender?”

“You know they are.”

“Galls result from the friction of your breeches against your skin, caused by your mount’s movement. Wet breeches increase the friction ten-fold. If we tried to ride now, half the company would be lining up tonight to see if you have any spare salve.”

Tertium spent some time telling of the countess’ first river crossing, not far from where they were. “She rode after that, without walking her horse. She was with a patrol of the First Southern Mounted Infantry, led by Count Gamelin. There are dozens of stories about that patrol. The countess met her future husband; the future duke met the Hostigi for the first time. Three times soldiers of Zarthan or the God-King attacked them. Gamelin lost two pairs of scouts who went too far south, and one in an ambush of the Zarthani.

“Duke Tuck shot the King of Zarthan, although he wasn’t the king yet, for the first time. Twice the duke has hit him in the head. The King of Zarthan must have a very thick skull. Countess Judy killed a soldier of the God-King in hand-to-hand combat with knives, as did Queen Elspeth, although she wasn’t queen yet, either. A day later, the duke met Tanda Havra, Kills-from-Behind.”

“The duke’s wife. How did a woman come by a name like that?”

“Before the war, she lived in Mogdai village. When the duke found her, she’d led a party of village Ruthani north, trying to escape to Outpost. She earned her name though, before then; she hunted as well as gathered herbs. She would sneak up on deer while they dozed and cut their throats with her knife. Until she met the duke, she had never owned a rifle. On the trip north, she’d killed a soldier of the God-King–from behind–with her knife as the man stood witless with his empty musket.”

“I’ve heard to many stories about them–they are hard to credit,” Jako told Tertium.

“If you think you are skeptical, think how skeptical the High King must have been! Of course, the stories about him are very nearly as fantastic. The High King threw down the priests of the false god, Styphon. While Duke Tuck won’t take credit for it, three of his soldiers killed themselves and the God-King.

“No one, Jako, no one in all of the legends has ever thrown down a god before. The High King did. He conquered the Great Kingdoms, because they supported the false god Styphon. Duke Tuck may not claim to have overthrown the God-King of Tenosh, but he’s gone now and Duke Tuck’s men killed him. Those are facts. Cold, hard, indisputable facts.”

Tertium waved ahead of them. “I think we are going to Mogdai. Once upon a time, we all knew where we were going. You will want to see Mogdai. You are Ruthani.”

“I’ve never hidden that,” Jako said, mildly miffed.

“No, you take my meaning wrong. The Ruthani aren’t ones to erect statues to their heroes.”

Jako could only shrug. What heroes would those be? Certainly not his father!

“Mogdai village has many statues, one for every man who died in the defense of the village against the combined armies of the God-King and the King of Zarthan. There were more than eighty men who died there, left behind to give the others of the village a chance to escape. Two in three of the villagers did escape. And there is an extra statue.

“Tazi of Mogdai,” Tertium finished his statement after a dramatic pause. “She is unique among the Ruthani–she has two statues. One at Mogdai, and one at the redoubt known at ‘Tarr-Dombra.’”

“That’s where the countess fought?”

“I wasn’t there. The only man in the company who was close was Roric, and he was on the other ridge. The countess’ redoubt was attacked by a thousand men; she had less than a hundred. Tazi was her second-in-command and died there. That was the worst day ever for the God-King. Not only did his army fail to take the redoubt, they didn’t kill the Lion of the Lost Ruthani who was there, nor did they kill Hestius, Tazi’s betrothed. The two of them got with a renegade officer and a renegade priest of the God-King and killed the God-King. Two who did live in that redoubt, were the countess and Tanda Havra.”

“The countess really killed all those men with a shovel?”

“Roric helped in the redoubt afterwards. Ask him. Yes. There were four hundred dead soldiers of the God-King in that chamber. Yes, many had been shot, but many had died on bayonets, rifle butts–and a field shovel. There was only one person armed with a field shovel there.”

Jako sighed. “We walk in the company of giants.”

“That is so. And if they don’t remember us in ballads after this–they’ll remember our deeds!”

They spent a moon quarter on the road before they reached Mogdai. They made camp earlier that the day than usual, at a huge complex of horse corrals.

Jako had a late guard shift, and he sought out Roric before then. “I saw the statues. I understand you knew Tazi of Mogdai.”

“Know her? No, I didn’t know her. I saw her around the camp a few times. Tell me, Jako, you seem like a reasonable man. If I tell you things you won’t like will you stay reasonable?”

“As long as you aren’t talking about my sister.”

Roric roared with laughter. “I know your sister’s husband; I’ve worked for him for a few years now. No, you’ll hear nothing about her from me.

“The Ruthani were arrogant allies. Too many, even Tanda Havra, did as they pleased at first and not what they were told. When we took Xipototec, most of our casualties were Ruthani, who threw themselves heedless at the God-King’s men.

“Over and over again, the Ruthani disappointed the duke, and by then, even Tanda Havra. Even the Lion of the Ruthani couldn’t get them to do what they were told. Your history, Jako, isn’t one to brag on, bear grease aside.”

“I was stupid. And I was fortunate.”

“You were. I have no complaints about you since you came to us. You do your duty, and all can see how much pain you are in. The Heavy Weapons Company is listed as ‘Mounted Infantry.’ We ride far, we ride fast. Not one of us hasn’t felt what you are feeling today.

“There is not a man in this company who will make fun of you–it is part of who we are. We’re tough! We’re hard! We endure pain that would drive other men mad! Our mortar tubes, when assembled, weigh more than you do; nearly as much as two of you combined. We train to carry them into battle–running. Heavy Weapons Company respects men who do their duty silently and without complaint. You wouldn’t have lasted one day here if you complained.

“So, no, I didn’t know Tazi of Mogdai. I saw her around camp, because she was always at Tanda Havra’s side and Tanda Havra was always at Duke Tuck’s side. The Duke of Mexico.

“We held the Ruthani in no particular regard; honestly, we held them more in contempt than regard. They could run, they could sneak, but those weren’t characteristics we highly regarded, because we value obedience more.”

Jako sighed. “I spent a lot of time washing off bear grease–I had time to think a great deal. Everyone says the High King is not a wizard, nor is Duke Tuck or Countess Judy. But they are wizards of a different sort than what we think of as wizards. They inspire other people to be great. The High King didn’t throw down Styphon...his army did. Yes, he guided that army, but he is just one man. His success was to generate an army of men stronger than any that had marched before.”

Roric nodded and Jako continued, “Duke Tuck brought a small number of men south. The Ruthani, as has been made clear to me, were of little help. His men took a town of the God-King of Tenosh. He didn’t take the town...his army did. He inspired his men to be as strong as he is. Countess Judy inspires men the same way.

“All across the land, men are striving to be better than their fathers, better than the best men who have gone before. And they are succeeding. Roric, I want to be a far better man than my father. Once upon a time he might have been an adequate warrior, but by the time I was old enough to understand some of what I saw, I could see he was a drunken sot with a foul temper and men followed him because their fathers had followed my grandfather. He unwittingly led the Hostigi soldiers back to our village and they burned it. They should have killed every one of us. I thought them weak because they simply trussed everyone up.

“I was too afraid to even try to rescue my sister. I hid. I ran away. That was the sort of inspiration my father was to me! The High King’s men didn’t kill the people of my village. They fed them for a while, branded troublemakers as wild Ruthani and made it clear that a branded Ruthani caught breaking the High King’s Peace was going to be a dead Ruthani. But I didn’t know that! I was too smart! I’d run and hid!

“One day I want to wake up and realize that I’ve been inspired to be better than my father.”

Roric smiled. “Pinch yourself, Jako. Then look around. You’re awake, and you’re better man than your father ever was. Keep doing what you’re told, when you’re told to do it, and one day you can be a sergeant too!”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Tazi was the first Ruthani officer, but just a junior lieutenant. The reason Leem is a sergeant? No Ruthani has the courage to say he’s braver or more capable than that girl. Leem is the war chief of the Lost Ruthani, and he should be a brigadier at least. Yet he remains a sergeant, because he doesn’t want to put himself above Tazi.”

“And Jumper?”

“He’d be a junior lieutenant now, but while he’s an officer, he’s even junior to a junior lieutenant. He wouldn’t dream of allowing himself to be promoted.”

Roric laughed lightly. “I’m here to tell you that being a sergeant is a good thing–plenty to eat, and lots of good clean exercise.”

Later, Jako stood a distance away from that bronze statue of the young girl. The other statues held the old style muskets, but she held a rifle across her body. He watched as the light faded. Only at the last did he see Jumper come up, not looking furtive, but obviously not wanting to be seen. He planted a kiss on her brass cheek, turned and headed back to camp.

II

An palm width later a group of senior officers met on the ridge after the battle. General Cambon from the Olmecha and his mentor, General Thanos, were there, as were Judy, Gamelin and Baron Vosper.

“It went well, Countess Judy!” Cambon told her. “We killed eight hundred or so, wounded another four hundred and there were thirty-five hundred prisoners who called ‘Oath to Galzar.’ The rest we allowed to escape to spread the word of their defeat.”

“You’ll honor those oaths?” Gamelin asked, still unsure of himself.

General Cambon grinned. “There are many things different in the lands of the King of the Olmeca these days. The old gods are discredited. Your priests, however, were pillars of strength during our travail–including sacrificing their lives for our people.” He laughed a little bitterly, “That and your armies gave ours such a drubbing! Soldiers will do anything they can to be on the winning side! Be they Gods or men!”

He shrugged and then said soberly. “There is something you should know. Some of my officers said we shouldn't tell you, but I know for certain that they are wrong. The High King says that come summer–that, and a signed peace treaty–he will start shipping us mortars, and that he will give us the plans on how to make them, and he will send us one of his warships and the plans for that.” He smiled slightly. “We don't get to keep the warship, though.”

Judy nodded. “I knew something like that was in the works.”

“I do not know why it is we can think more clearly these days than ever before. My brother, my sister and myself knew the sacrifices were wrong–even if at first we didn't recognize the reason. We thought it was unfair because not all of the people shared the burden, and on top of that there were the corrupt priests who were taking part of the sacrifices for their own purposes.

“The priests had started taking many of the young women supposedly slated for sacrifice, and instead making them temple harlots. That had been steadily alienating the general population. When the revolution came, the priests found angry mobs, not pious supporters. On that day their stock with the common people had been used up and on that day most of the priests of the God-King died.

“One day long ago, my brother, sister and I looked at each other and realized it didn't matter if the sacrifices were applied fairly or not. There is nothing fair about an early death. Events made things so much worse than we ever imagined...”

Yes, events. The death of nearly two hundred million of his people from a plague sent to them by enemies that they weren't even aware of. The death of nine of ten of your people did rather concentrate your thinking.

“But here and now, Countess Judy! You couldn't see it from here; we couldn't see it from where I was, but they had a hundred mortars hidden in a wash. The battle went against them so fast that the mortarmen never had a chance to change targets; when the others ran, they ran too. When the others surrendered, so did they.”

“And you captured the weapons?”

“Yes, Countess. Not one of them even tried to destroy the weapons or their ammunition. Most of the shells were still loaded in wagons, the crates unopened.”

She considered that for a moment. “Someone fetch Captain Big Mortar.”

She turned back to General Cambon. “Those weapons are yours; I realize you didn't have to fight very hard for them, but then, now you know Duke Tuck's biggest secret: it's one thing to surprise people by just appearing, but when you kill them, that’s a bigger surprise still.”

“We learned that lesson repeatedly when we fought you,” General Cambon told her. “My brother was most insistent that I practice what I've learned.” He gestured at General Thanos. “My teacher was even more insistent. He has had even more lessons than my brother. My brother never fought Duke Tuck; General Thanos has three times. He would just as soon not fight the duke again.”

Two men came trotting up, the one leading was easily the largest man anyone there had ever seen. The other man was a competent, but very rotund, young man in his early twenties wearing a sergeant’s armband. Gamelin and Vosper did a double take as they recognized the second man...they thought he was in Xipopotec.

“General Cambon's troops captured some mortars from the rebels. A hundred tubes,” Judy announced to the two mortar soldiers. “I'd like the two of you to go and take a look at them.”

She turned to General Cambon. “General, as I said, those are yours by right. I wish, however, to exchange favors.”

“Favors, Countess?”

“Yes. Let Captain Big Mortar and his–sergeant–examine the mortars; perhaps they can fire a few test shots. In exchange for that, they'll loan you a half dozen sergeants who can teach your men how to use those mortars. Perhaps Colonel Legios would be able help as well.”

General Cambon clapped his hands in pleasure. “Countess Judy, as I found before–you are a pleasure to bargain with! And I imagine Colonel Legios would only be too happy to find a reason to prolong his stay in Zacateca.”

General Cambon turned to one of his officers. “See that these two men are taken to the captured guns at once!”

Big Mortar coughed. “Lady Judy, may I call for another of my sergeants as well? I'd like to take a couple of shells with us, to see if ours are the same as theirs. He can stay here, my sergeant and I suffice.”

III

As the Hostigi party followed the Olmechan staff officer down towards where their enemies had laid in wait, Big Mortar laughed as he spoke to the “sergeant” next to him. “We certainly have a lot of guards to keep us safe,” he said, indicating the party of about fifteen Olmechan soldiers.

The two men chuckled as one. From the expression on the Olmechan's lieutenant's face in front of them, he understand Zarthani and knew what they'd been saying. The two Hostigi shared a look. Confusion was something they'd gotten very good at causing their enemies. It wasn't a nice thing to do to an ally, but then, a year before, these allies had been their mortal enemies.

The Olmecha were continuing to gather up individual weapons; the soldiers from Becal were still stunned and in shock from their quick and utter defeat. They were guarded by knots of Olmechan soldiers who stood over them with fixed bayonets and fierce scowls. The prisoners sat in the sun, but other Olmechan soldiers moved among them with water, and treating minor wounds. Off to one side, wolf-caped priests of Galzar tended to the seriously wounded.

One of the Olmechan officers intercepted their escort and clearly was angry at the message the lieutenant brought. Captain Big Mortar took a few steps forward and spoke in their language.

“Do you know who I am?” Big Mortar asked the captain.

“I saw you once before, when I served with General Denethon,” the Olmechan told Big Mortar and then waved at the man next to Big. “I recognize the other as well.”

“Ah! There at that nameless speck of a town! Now I remember you.”

The Olmechan officer spat on the ground. “We should have killed you.”

“Maybe. On the other hand, the High King rode into that town six palm widths later. With him was the Grand Marshal; guess what would have happened to you and your troops if you'd spent any time killing us?”

“General Cambon says to show you the captured weapons,” the officer said, ignoring him. “Why? Don't you have the same weapons?”

“Perhaps,” Big Mortar said. “But these weapons are from Becal. Not even Duke Tuck or the High King had medicine to fight the plague. Becal did. Much as it pains the High King to say it, the men of Becal can do things he can't–as he could do things the men of the Great Kingdoms couldn't. And things the men of Becal can’t.”

The Hostigi “sergeant” spoke up in flawless Olmechan. “Captain, you are older than Lady Judy, Countess of Tecpan. I am older than she is. Captain Big is older. You are, I think, about the same age as General Cambon.

“Think, Captain! There is a reason Lady Judy is a countess and we're just soldiers. There is a reason Cambon is a general and we are not. I watched them talk, moments ago. We've already spent longer talking here, than they did, to reach this decision. Why is that? Because to someone like them, this is a simple decision.

“I do not think any of us will do our careers any good if we spend much more time talking about what we've been told to do.”

“Come,” the captain told them, waving them towards a small gully.

As they walked, Big Mortar punched his companion on the arm. “I was afraid for a heartbeat that you were going to ask if they were afraid of a captain and a sergeant. Then I realized that you would probably put a mortar bomb in my bed if I did that.”

“The thought crossed my mind,” his companion replied. 

He'd known the lieutenant spoke Zarthani, now he learned that the captain did as well. Still, the other held his peace.

They dropped down into the gully and could see a line of mortar tubes running for a couple of hundred yards. Big knew what such weapons could do and was mildly alarmed.

Then he took a moment to think. Next to each weapon was an open case of shells, then four more cases piled a dozen feet behind the weapon. There were wagons placed at intervals along the wash, clearly loaded with more shells. Big walked over to the nearest mortar tube and checked. The open case next to it, ready for use, was full.

“Do you have one of your artillery officers here?” Big Mortar asked the captain.

He nodded and called a name. A man dressed in nothing but a loin cloth came up. “Captain Xoti, these are the High King's men. General Cambon wants to let them see the captured weapons.”

Big Mortar spoke up. “And, if we like what we see, we'll send you a half dozen of our trained mortar sergeants to show you how to use these. There was talk of letting Colonel Legios help as well.” Colonel Legios was the most famous mortar officer in the High King’s army.

The officer bobbed his head. “That would be good! We have no idea how they work. Yes, the High King's mortars work simply, and we think these do too, but we don't know enough to do it with confidence.” He laughed. “We have troops all around now–I don't think a random shot would be a good idea.”

Big had leaned over and pulled one of the ready rounds from its packing case. In broad terms, it was easy enough to understand. The High King's mortars used pressed disks of smokeless fireseed. These had small cloth bags that, when opened, had a similar material–at least it was the same color, but a powder and not solid. The small bags were easy to detach from the shell and he was sure that, like their own mortars, the bags contained what threw the shell.

In the meantime, his companion had a template and he was going along the line of mortar tubes, measuring them. He came back after a finger width. “They are all the same size, Captain. They are too small for even our smallest round.

“And, there is something funny about the aiming mechanism.”

Big Mortar promptly looked for himself. The sights for one of the High King's mortars consisted of a round aperture, with two thin pieces of steel wire that crossed in the center of the view. You lined up the wires with your aiming stake, up and down, left and right, depending on how far away the target was. The stakes had marks on them, and with surprisingly little practice, it was easy to hit your target.

These guns had a small tube with glass at either end that evidently took the place of the aperture. Looking through the glass revealed the same sort of cross in the center, but it was, Big thought, much thinner and more precise. Also, the aiming stake looked closer than it actually was.

Big Mortar grunted. Then he went to the Olmechan captain. “Did you capture many of the mortarmen? Any of their sergeants or officers?”

“We have about a hundred of their artillerymen and two of their sergeants. We didn't find anything else that resembled artillery, so they must have been the crews to serve these weapons. We have found no officers or other sergeants.”

“In the High King's army, there are four men per weapon,” Big Mortar told him. “Clearly, officers and sergeants vary, but we'd have a sergeant for every five tubes and an officer for every twenty or thirty. You have about a quarter of their artillerymen, and none of the officers and only a few sergeants–there should have been at least four or five lieutenants and a captain and twenty sergeants.”

“They were very mixed up when we took them,” the lieutenant explained.

“But you tried to sort them out?” Big Mortar asked.

“Yes, of course. But...” he gestured at himself. He was wearing a loin cloth and an aide's armband on his arm. There was a wide leather strap across his chest, and a bag attached to his waist, where he carried his fireseed and loading equipment. He carried a rifle slung over his shoulder as well.

“How did you tell the artillerymen from everyone else then?” Big continued.

“They stayed together, and when we asked a few, they told us. We're in the process of asking all of them now which units they belonged to,” the captain reported.

Big Mortar nodded. “I hope you understand the importance we place on the Oath to Galzar. Galzar Wolf's Head tries to keep the rules of war simple so that a common soldier can't be easily tricked when he surrenders.

“Did most of these men surrender as individuals or as units?”

“At first it was individuals, then, when resistance collapsed, by their sergeants and occasionally officers. Some of their officers were killed by their own men, when they refused to surrender.”

Big Mortar nodded. “Losing is a terrible thing, but having an officer who thinks your life is worth less than his honor is worse. Please, you may ask the Uncle Wolfs among you: These men are new to the ways of Galzar, and it is permitted to bring them, one at a time, before one of the priests of Galzar to individually reconfirm their oath. All they would have to say is 'I pledge, on my honor, Oath to Galzar.'”

“Some of them will lie,” the captain said, uncertain.

“Of course some will lie! This has happened before in our past, and not so long ago, when we took adherents of Styphon prisoner. You see, before the priests take those oaths, one of them will stand before the prisoners and tell them the consequences of breaking the Oath to Galzar.

“If one or two men violate their oaths, they are turned over to the military authorities for trial. In the case of Styphon's men and priests who refused the oath, they were held in a very unpleasant prison until the war was over, and then they were branded on the forehead with an 'S' and released. Their lives, not pleasant in prison, got worse as all true men–and women–shunned them. But they lived.

“Any group of men who broke the Oath...they received the High King's punishment for oath-breakers. They were 'treated as wolves are.' That is, shot at once without mercy. All of them.”

“And what will this give us?” the captain asked.

“A great many men whose lives depend on their fellow prisoners keeping their oaths. We caught a great many of Styphon's priests who tried to hide among common soldiers. As soon as those soldiers realized who it was among them, they gave up the oath-breakers to Uncle Wolf.”

The captain chewed his lip. “I will check with my brigadier, Captain. There is something in what you say.”

Priests of Galzar Wolf’s Head were supposed to take no sides in war. That had been put in abeyance when Styphon had warred on the priests of all the other gods. The sudden collapse of Styphon should have changed that, and in fact, there were tentative moves in that direction, but the priests of the Mexicotál God-King were beyond blood thirsty and no true man could stomach the slaughter of so many innocents, so it had been put off again until after the God-King had been dealt with.

Then the God-King and shortly after that, the God-King's priests ended up as the priests of Styphon had: massacred by the angry people. Again, moves had been made by the priests of Galzar to return to the old neutrality, and that had hastened when the new king of the now-named “Olmecha” had asked for priests to explain their gods to his people.

That had hardly gotten started when the foulest deed ever, in the entire history of men anywhere, destroyed the Olmecha. Their enemies had sent a plague that killed more than 90 percent of the Olmechan people. True, not all had died from the sickness itself, but a good many had despaired at the horror they saw around them and had gone mad. After a year, the survivors had retaken less than half of what had once been called their “Heartlands.”

There were enemies afoot. It seemed incredible that it could happen–that someone could plan a deed as foul as what had befallen the Olmecha, but it clearly had. The ship with the plague landed on the east coast of the Olmechan lands, having come from further east still.

Several moons after the collapse of the Olmechans, it was found that a single town on the west coast had survived the plague–it had, in fact, never suffered from it at all. Priests of the God-King and priests of Styphon had appeared with medicine that prevented the disease from ever starting.

So, in spite of their intention to return to neutrality, the priests of Galzar hadn't been able to. When Countess Judy and Count Gamelin came down off the mountain and added the weight of their opinions, the priests of Galzar went in front of the prisoners and exhorted them as to how “Oath to Galzar” worked.

There was trouble among the prisoners, and a few officers were turned over at first, then more and more as the soldiers of Becal realized that their personal survival would depend on faithless men who threatened terrible punishments for turning them over to the troops of Countess Judy and King Xyl.

And what was the penalty for being turned over? Why, they asked you if you wished to claim Oath to Galzar, and if you did, officers were informed that they would be interned indefinitely, but would otherwise not be harmed and the detention was relatively mild. They would be treated as officers, and allowed a limited degree of movement.

Those that did not take the oath were interned as well, but the conditions were worse and they weren't allowed to roam.

Since all men knew that the High King, his nobles and officers dealt fairly, it was a powerful motivation to be faithful in return.

By nightfall they had the artillery commander and three of his four lieutenants. The fourth had died, untouched by any man. When he been pointed out, he'd lifted his chin, and moments later was dead, as so many of the agents of the High King's enemies had died.

Judy, Gamelin and Cambon stared down at the body of the dead officer, with dozens of soldiers looking on, silent.

“I cannot believe so many men could or would do such a thing,” General Cambon said helplessly. “One or two fanatics, but there have been so many...”

Judy looked at him. “General Cambon, I have no idea either. Duke Tuck has no idea. In a war our homeland fought some men such as these, but those men died in the service of their God-King, attacking our ships and men. But not as fruitlessly as these men die. They would fling themselves alone into the attack. Most died without result, but some did disproportionate damage.” Judy tried not to gag on the word; she’d watched the TV series “Victory at Sea.”

“When those men held a position, they would either all die in its defense, or, feeling that they’d failed their God-King, attack without regard to what damage they would do, or what harm they would suffer. There is no good that comes out of such sacrifice.”

“And yet,” General Cambon said softly, “two of your people and two of ours walked amongst us and killed the God-King and his sons, knowing it was their deaths.”

“One had lost the love of his life; one was the greatest warrior in the history of the Lost Ruthani and wanted to be remembered for a deed no one could match. That said, the High King has forbidden such attacks in the future and Duke Tuck repeated his threats and added his own.”

General Cambon laughed low. “And the Lion of the Ruthani’s adopted daughter is married to the duke; a daughter of his own blood is high in the Duke’s service and others of his children rank highly amongst the Ruthani–and with the High King.”

Judy could only grimace. “He had a lot of kids.”

There was a stir of laughter among the onlookers; all knew that the Lion of the Ruthani had appetites that included a lot of women and he’d sired a great many children.

Judy met the general’s eyes. “Sir, trust me. Tanda Havra had no idea what her foster father intended. He had been wounded in battle, as had his accomplice. If she’d known, she’d have forbidden it. If Tuck or the High King had been asked, they’d have forbidden it.” She made a gesture of frustration. “And wouldn’t have stopped what happened next, if they’d have stayed home.”

The general stretched his neck, twisting it back and forth, before nodding. “There is always that.” He waved at the battlefield. “If we gave the prisoners to the High King, they would be removed to the north, would they not?”

“The High King desires his prisoners to go home on his schedule...not theirs. Yes, they would be removed to the Cold Lands, north of Hostigos. If they stay in their camp they will be warm and well-fed. If they flee...”

The cold would kill them. Failing that, they would be thousands of miles from home, surrounded by enemies, any one of which would need only a glance to see that he was an enemy.

General Cambon was not a shy man, and not given to quick decisions, but this was important to him. “We could continue on to Becal.”

“We could. We could eliminate a few outposts and I suppose that’s worth doing,” Judy told him. “Then their main body will come out and we’ll have to retreat, and because of the threat to our home cities, we’d have to separate giving them a chance to defeat us in detail. No, as nice as it would be, I think their morale will suffer more from the quick defeat, and showing our contempt for them by turning around and going home before they could do anything.”

“Duke Tuck?” the general asked.

“He wanted to be informed of the plan and nothing more. He didn’t even want to know the date and said that only Tanda Havra would know as well.”

“Treason is a terrible thing,” General Cambon said. “I dared not tell anyone except my brother and my tutor.” He sighed. “I am glad my sister never learned we were going out. I would have hated lying to her.” He bobbed his head. “But then, Countess, you lied to your husband.”

“He’s a good man, but the victim of a fell stroke. Since then, he’s an easy target of flattery. I do believe he’s learned his lesson.”

General Cambon looked around; none of the others were close. “Lady Judy, tell him to have a care. Flatterers, deprived of their influence, can strike out.”

“Strike harder than twenty-four men in the dead of night?”

“One man in the bright light of day, with a hidden blade delivered to the belly. That has ever been the way among my people.”

“I can’t say that my own people are free of that curse; our leader was struck down by a bullet in the back not so long ago. Treason is an ugly, ugly thing!”

*** ** ***

By mid-afternoon the Tecpan troops were all back on the hilltop. Baron Hollar came up to report to Judy, and she insisted that her husband listen to the report. Baron Hollar glanced at him and then spoke.

“There were no surprises here, Countess. Baron Folios and Captain Melchium. We surprised the baron and rendered him unconscious and searched for hidden poison–including in his teeth. When he regained consciousness he focused on me, then rolled up his eyes and died.

“Melchium–I am sorry, Countess. My man was too tender; he didn’t hit the man hard enough to render him unconscious. He smiled at me and died.

“As per your instructions, I messaged Tecpan. Leem reports an equal lack of success; the four suspects killed themselves.” The baron glanced at Gamelin. “The Mexicotál scouts have lost their captain and lieutenant, and two others, one from the palace and one from the citadel refused to be taken alive.”

“Thank you, Baron. You have done splendidly. Now, if you would, parade my husband’s staff for us.”

Judy turned to her husband. “I said I would apologize to the innocent; I will. Please, my dear, let me speak now and remain silent. If you feel an urge to say something...think very carefully.”

“I have lost your confidence,” he said sadly.

“If you had lost my confidence, you’d have been questioned by Baron Hollar. You just need a new staff.”

The eighteen very bedraggled survivors of her husband’s hangers-on were lined up.

Judy simply spoke right to the point. “If you feel ill-treated–you were. It was my order. Look around you. One in ten of you was a traitor to the High King, Hostigos, Duke Tuck, Mexico and Tecpan. Not one of you came to my husband or myself with suspicions.

“We keep files on each of you. I apologize to you for doubting you, and a note will go in your files that I have apologized to you personally. You can apply to the Duke of Mexico for the same. Do not apply to my husband for anything.

“Our allies, the Olmecha, won a battle here today. The men of Tecpan got to watch how it was done. You, however, were otherwise occupied.

“Line up now, as if you were privates.”

The quickly sorted themselves into a line. “Count off!” Judy commanded.

Several of them glanced around. Baron Hollar’s field gendarmes were still there, with their shotguns in their arms. Behind them, a very hostile crowd of soldiers were gathered.

The numbers were rattled off with verve. Two sergeants of the field gendarmes moved up, one to either end of the line.

“Numbers one to nine, right face. One by one, give your name to the sergeant in front of you. You are to repair to Tecpan, pack your things, and report to the Duke of Mexico by end of the moon quarter. That gives you six days to make a three day trip. You are dismissed.”

She turned slightly. “Numbers to ten to eighteen, left face. One by one, give your name to the sergeant in front of you. You are to repair to Tecpan, pack your things, and report to Grand Marshal Hestophes by the end of the moon. That’s twenty-six days to make a twenty day trip. You are dismissed.”

“I’ll be damned if I’ll obey a woman,” one of the officers of the second group said.

Judy cocked her head to one side. “Are you challenging my authority?”

Gamelin came alive. “Grotium, don’t! For the sake of the Gods, don’t!”

“No! A woman never will command me!”

Judy laughed. “I am challenged, am I not?”

“I know you’ll pick a champion. I am skilled in saber and pistol.”

“Gamelin!” Judy exclaimed, choking back laughter. “This fool hasn’t heard any of the stories! Do better!” She laughed harder. “Next time.”

She turned to the officer. “If you had any brains at all, you’d know I never use a champion and what my preferred weapon is. Reconsider your options.”

“Then prepare to die, woman!” he screamed.

There were scattered cat-calls from the troops, then sustained laughter.

“Pistols? No! Sabers? No! I prefer the field shovel.”

“What? That’s not a weapon!”

“How many men have you killed with saber and pistol?” Judy asked.

“Eight!”

“And I’ve killed just a few more than that with a shovel,” Judy said.

The laughter from the troops redoubled, and they started calling out ribald jests about the man’s manhood.

“A shovel isn’t a proper weapon!”

“When it’s all you have, it’s all you have. Somebody get this man a shovel.”

Baron Hollar presented a shovel to Judy. Someone had given Grotium a shovel. Judy simply walked over to him. “Ready?”

The man lofted the shovel and made a rude comment about women again. Judy feinted one way, and when Grotium made a mighty swing at her, partially turning, she planted a foot on his behind and pushed him to his knees. He turned and slashed low with the shovel, only to meet Judy’s shovel full on. His flew off and Judy stepped closer, bringing her shovel to the man’s throat.

“Do you yield?” she asked mildly.

He tried to spit at her–except it’s a bad idea to spit at someone when you are on your back.

Judy turned to Baron Hollar. “I have agreed with General Cambon to accept their prisoners. He wants to see them moved to the Cold Lands.

“Escort them as far as Zimapan and the Grand Marshal. I’ll let him know what General Cambon’s intentions are.” She gestured at the man on the ground. “See that this man is included among the prisoners going north.”

She turned to the seventeen men remaining. “The thing is, I forgot one thing. If any of you are still in the County of Tecpan when your time expires, these men,” she gestured at the army, “will kill you. You are wasting time!”


	7. Sailing

I

“Sail ho! Far away to the northwest and going that way!”

The man who’d been known as Gradius, and now known as Rellin, didn’t hesitate. He was up the shrouds as fast as any of his men could climb.

The lookout bobbed his head. “Can’t see much, sir.” He gestured to the northwest and Rellin looked in the indicated direction. “He was in front of a cloud, sir, or I’d have seen him sooner.”

There were just the tops of a set of sails, from a ship headed northwest. Puffy white clouds dotted the sky, down to the horizon.

He called down to the deck. “Tack to the east!”

There as a flurry of acknowledgements, and a few moments later the sails shivered.

The captain turned to the man on watch. “There will be slab of moldy beef from my table at the turn of the watch for you, and a gold Kalvan.

The man brightened up. “Ah, beef!”

His captain laughed, “I thought I’d hear a nice word about the gold.”

The seaman on watch laughed. “We were promised a town to loot, Captain.”

“And that lies to the north or northwest. Perhaps in a few days. We don’t want to see many ships like that one, do we?”

“No, Captain! If the lookouts garner a gold Kalvan for seeing one, I imagine we’ll see quite a few.”

The captain grinned widely. “And your captain is where, looking at what? I imagine your captain would be–upset–to climb this far to check out a cloud.”

“That was no cloud,” the man said, gesturing to the other ship, barely visible as twilight fell.

“That was no cloud,” the captain agreed. “Maybe you think I should take the Kalvan back.”

“No sir, that’s a ship.”

“That’s a ship,” Rellin agreed. “Remind the other lookouts about the importance of us seeing them before they see us.”

With that, he slid to the deck much faster than he’d risen to the heights.

“We’re settled on the new course, sir,” his second in command told him. “There was another ship?”

“There was, headed due northwest. While I watched they didn’t change course.”

That was clear enough...they hadn’t been seen.

“And when should we heave to?”

“In a three finger widths, tack northeast. After another palm’s width, heave to. Run the lead continuously, and if the bottom shoals, call me. I do believe we are close to our destination.”

He was woken much later. He arose, not bothering with anything but a swig of some very bad wine. He went on deck and the officer of the deck came over. “The first light of dawn in half a palm width, sir.”

“Any observations, Ensign?”

“Sir, no. We toss the lead every turn of the glass and there is no bottom. We run the log line every two turns, but there is no wind so we don’t move.”

“Any other observations, Ensign?”

The other hesitated. “No, sir.”

His captain pointed to the sky in the north. “What do you see, Ensign?”

“A great many stars, sir.”

“And to west?”

“The same, sir.”

“The south?”

“The same, Captain.”

Rellin could see the young man was nervous. “And to the east?”

“Many stars, sir.” Rellin heard the hitch in the young man’s voice. “In the other directions, sir, the stars go to the horizon. The horizon is higher to the east.”

“And your guess as to the reason, Ensign?”

“Land, sir.”

“That’s right. And knowing that we can’t tell which way the current is pushing us, nor how fast, why do you think we throw the lead?”

“So we will know if we are getting close to land.”

“Very good, Ensign! Now call out the watch and prepare to make sail.” He raised her voice, “Helm, set your course due west!”

There was the shrill call of whistles and the duty watched swarmed the shrouds.

Rellin’s sailing master appeared. “What, sir?”

“Find out who is the masthead lookout. Bread and water for three days.”

“And his sin?”

“We have land to the east. No one reported it.”

“I’d rather lash him a few times,” the sailing master said darkly.

“In truth, it is hard to see, so no. Be sure that he knows it will be thirty days bread and water if this happens again and lashes.”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

Rellin turned to the ensign. “You were not on lookout duty; nonetheless, you were responsible. Have you been aloft on this watch?”

“Twice, sir.”

“You have a choice, Ensign. It wasn’t your duty, but it was your responsibility. You failed. Your job as an ensign is to learn your duty as well as to be responsible. If you tell me that you’ve learned your lesson, in that case, so be it. Or you can tell me that you failed and should be punished. You’d be on bread and water for a day.”

“The last, sir. I failed in my responsibility.”

“Good. Because if you’d taken the first option and messed up again, I’d count you hopeless and assign you as an ordinary seaman in one of the watches. This way, I’m sure you won’t forget your lesson.”

The sails were set, the helm turned and they began to slowly crawl their way against what little wind there was. Rellin’s fingers were crossed, hoping they were out-sailing the current that had brought them to this place.

Not very much later the land was clear to see, but they were now about ten miles way. “All men on deck!” he called and the petty officers jumped to it, sending the men from below up on deck, to cluster aft.

Rellin was blunt. “Off to the left is one of the islands the king told us about. We don’t know enough about this place yet to know which one it is. Everyone has to be a lookout now, because we are in hostile waters and here every man’s hand will be raised against us.

“Make no mistake about our welcome here. These are the people who destroyed North Port. They killed every man, woman and child in the town, and then burned it to the ground. If we are captured here, have no doubt about our fate.

“We are scouts, like the famous scouts of the High King and the Ruthani, except we are scouts of the sea. The way scouts stay alive is not to be seen. That is harder for us to accomplish, but it’s something we’ve done for years, hasn’t it men?”

There were rough laughs from many of the men.

“The king says these islands tend to the northwest, and there is nothing between them and Zarthan but open sea. In a finger width we are going to reverse course, and head southeast. We will round this island to the south, then sail north along its eastern coast. Our goal at this time is not to survey these islands closely, but just note on our maps where they are.

“We must keep a close eye out for other ships. I think it was too dark for the one we spotted yesterday to see us. If we can keep avoiding them, at the edge of their sight, we might just accomplish our mission. I assure you all–I have a wife and children back home...It’s not that I won’t take any chances–but I want to see them again.”

II

Four days after Mogdai village, the Heavy Weapons Company was at the Mud River ferry crossing. They’d exchanged horses once more before they reached the crossing. That was good news for how fast the column was moving, but excruciating pain for Jako.

However, this time they didn’t have to make a combat crossing of the river–they rode on ferries. There were two ferries at the crossing, and ferry each had to make two trips, and the Heavy Weapons Company needed two palm widths to cross the river.

That night Jako had guard duty again, and mid-way through the his tour, he heard a sound. He turned carefully and saw Jumper standing a few feet away.

“You are learning our trade, Jako,” the young man said. “I heard you were asking about Tazi. Roric spoke of it to the captain.”

“I was curious.”

“Did he really tell you that she is respected for her bravery?”

“Yes. What she did–she wasn’t a coward.”

“Jako, Jako! What kind of the Ruthani are you? We’ve fought the God-King’s soldiers for a thousand or more years. Tens of thousands of Ruthani have died at their hands! Tazi was just another of so very many.”

“Then why did you kiss her cheek?”

“Ha! There is hope for you yet, Plainsman! I didn’t see you! Tazi was no braver than tens of thousands of Ruthani who died before. What do you think made the difference?”

“I have no idea. That kiss...did you know her?”

“I only saw her at the outset–Tanda Havra was leading some of us towards Outpost. I never talked to her. 

“Jako, the duke went south with barely a thousand Hostigi soldiers; he got the Lost Ruthani to send a couple of hundred of men–and two women. Tanda Havra and Tazi, girl of Mogdai.

“The Ruthani lost more men than the Hostigi soldiers lost. They lost several times as many men as the Hostigi did. They kept ignoring what they were told, even though they died by unnecessary dozens. 

“The duke tried to make allowances, but every time he did, the Ruthani thought that meant he was weak. Finally most of them were sent home. Tanda Havra learned the first time she disobeyed. Tazi never disobeyed. Not even once. She was always where she supposed to be, doing what she was supposed to, how she’d been told.

“The kiss? We pledge to her that we will never do anything but what we’re told.”

“And not being promoted?” Jako asked.

“What can a Ruthani do, beyond doing what they are told? How can you be better than that?”

“Surviving the battle.”

“You’ve never been in a battle,” Jumper said–it wasn’t a question.

“No.”

“Your sergeants know how to survive–at least what you need to do right to stay alive. Still, bullets follow paths that sergeants don’t control. You can die from the smallest mistake, or from no mistake at all. On the other hand, there are a lot of soldiers with the Heavy Weapons Company that have been in couple of dozen battles and skirmishes. The company fought at Three Hills–there were nearly a half million men on the field that day. The men of the Heavy Weapons Company did what they were taught. We always win. Our officers have no intention of wasting us uselessly.

“Twice, Jako! Twice Captain Legios stood in front of the army of the God-King! They had been much reduced, but they far outnumbered the Company! Once he bluffed them to pass us by. A day later, he wasn’t bluffing. Three hundred men under his command broke the God-King’s vanguard–two thousand men.

“As a junior aide to his brigadier, he stood at the brigadier’s side on the first day at Three Hills when their position was attacked by a half a division of Mexicotál troops. His division were the finest skirmishers of the High King–a thousand men. Five to one against, you understand?

“They did what they were told; a palm width later less than a hundred survivors of that half-division retreated. His division had taken only a handful of casualties. The next day, Grand Marshal Hestophes did the same thing to the vanguard of the God-King’s army. A quarter million men came at Hestophes–only sixty thousand survived to retreat. Those men of the High King–they too did what they had been told.

“So no man of the Lost Ruthani is going to place himself above a girl who did what she was told. Not ever. And the kiss? A vow to do what we are told. We want to be like her.”

Jumper vanished into the darkness, giving Jako a lot to think about. Later he was relieved, and went to the section fire. It was surprisingly chill, and he wanted to warm a bit. Roric appeared. “Walk with me, Recruit.”

Jako fell in next to him. They went most of the way to the horse lines. This day they hadn’t changed mounts.

“The Mud River is the treaty boundary between the lands of the High King and the King of Zarthan. I was told to keep you too tired to wander around at night. Your Ruthani brethren scouted for us up to the border, but they can’t cross the river, without a long and involved exchange of messages.”

“I don’t follow, Roric.”

“Captain Gryllos says that we are here by permission, but our column can take rudimentary military precautions. It would be an insult, you understand, to put out more than one scout. But one...”

“Me,” Jako said, finally understanding.

“You. By now you should have noticed that you are not as tired as you once were–and not as sore.”

“As in ‘not as,’ yes, Roric.”

“As best as you can, please scout forward along our path. Jumper will be by before dawn with maps, before the company is ready to march. If a Zarthani scout stops you, have him check with his officer if we are allowed one scout. On the other hand, if you’re never seen–that would be best.” Roric paused and laughed, “And, in case you’re curious, our weapons are better than theirs. Don’t try to steal from them.”

Nearly a moon quarter later they pulled into a remount exchange, just outside South Port. Jako was feeling better than he’d felt a long time and wasn’t tired at all.

Captain Gryllos called the company together after the evening meal.

“As you’ve no doubt noticed, we’re outside South Port.” He reached into a pocket and clipped a single diamond on his collar. The men around Jako erupted in cheers. “Where we are going is still secret; this is not meant as disrespect.”

“Tomorrow we will make our way down to the harbor. There we will board two ships of the king of Zarthan. I’m told that as tough as mounted infantry are, this may tax our abilities. Don’t hesitate to call out for help.”

Another man walked out of darkness, with a number of men around him. “King Freidal of Zarthan,” a voice from the darkness said.

Jako had never seen an actual king before. He remembered something he’d heard. Duke Tuck had shot this man in the head twice. This king didn’t sound like he’d lost anything by that.

The king spoke in a clear voice, “I understand why the High King hasn’t been eager to teach my soldiers about mortars. I hold him in high regard and I didn’t care about it. Now however, you’ll be going to a place where you’ll train my soldiers in your art. And the High King, Duke Tuck and my queen assure me that it is an art.

“Please understand that your mission is to help repay a huge injustice, and prevent the like from happening again. You will earn the gratitude of my kingdom, myself and my wife, if you succeed.”

For a palm width the next morning Jako was pleased at the thought he didn’t have to ride for a few days as they marched to the docks. Then he boarded his ship and it moved. Horses moved and he smiled, thinking that this would be a lot easier than riding.

A moment later his breakfast was emptying from his stomach. And he was by no means alone. The next ten days were the worst nightmare of his life, even more difficult than learning to ride a horse.

He couldn’t eat; he couldn’t drink. The instant anything hit his stomach, it came back up. There were only a few men who couldn’t adjust, but he was one most affected. Only the fact that the company had experience with similar symptoms from the plague kept him alive. He was given salty water to drink, even if he couldn’t keep it down.

His body must have taken in some of the water, as he didn’t die, although there wasn’t one of those ten days he didn’t wish he would die.

III

Vosper fetched Gamelin a tankard of watered wine without speaking while they sat in the office of the Heavy Weapons Company barracks. Outside the door, the barracks were dark and untenanted.

Gamelin took a sip of the wine and then idly made waves in the tankard, staring into it.

“We were wrong, you know, my Lord,” Vosper said softly.

“She humiliated me in front of everyone.”

“We talked too much. The humiliation was her way of chastising us. Did you notice the report by Baron Hollar and Leem? They knew who the spies were; they used that knowledge to gut the rebels.”

“She has no regard for me.”

“My friend, if she had no regard for you, you’d have been given to Baron Hollar to question. The countess went out of her way to vouch for you with Duke Tuck and the High King.”

“She laid hands on me–over and over. She is stronger than I am.”

“And the priests said you needed to exercise, but you haven’t. All men know that muscles unused are lost.”

“I am no man,” Gamelin declared.

“You are a white hair. Cowards don’t have white hair. Few women have white hair unless they are very old or very, very brave. You need to do what Lady Lydia says, ‘carpe diem.’ Seize the day. Take up a sword and swing it in the butts for a palm width a day or two or three palm widths. You need to run with the scouts every day.”

Gamelin lifted his head and looked at his oldest friend. “My manhood fails me,” he despaired in a whisper.

Vosper looked at Gamelin and shook his head. “You and Lady Judy are oath-bound. The words were new, but the sentiment is older than the hills. ‘To death do us part.’ My lord, get off your lazy ass and do whatever is in your power to regain what you had before! You are a true man, Gamelin. Never doubt it! You took a grievous wound! A foul, low blow from a coward, no different than the one Colonel Legios took.

“He survived. He forgave his enemy the blow. The story has the same effect on the Olmecha as the High Queen shooting the High King before she knew who he was. You and the countess have fought together. You went to her aid at Tarr-Dombra. There the Olmechans held off the Mounted Infantry for two palm widths. You cut through them in less than a finger width! You cleared the Tarr even quicker!

“You fought together! Not like Legios! Not like the High King! Do not throw it all away for nothing! We were wrong to talk to our subordinates as much as we did!

“Remember that night, when we were chasing General Thanos? The duke gave you some very special orders! You told me and only me, because the Duke told you not to tell anyone! You were wrong to tell me! The Lion of the Ruthani knew and he advised Tanda Havra not to tell her people. She lost two men that night! The duke told the countess that he’d learned the lesson long ago, and painfully. The countess took him at his word and did what she’d been told.

“Only two of the Ruthani were lost that night, and ever since the Ruthani would rather cut off an arm or leg than disobey an order!

“This wasn’t practice! This was real! Those damn men from Becal would have killed us with glee! But we have a leader who is smarter than you and I! Smarter than the men of Becal and smarter than their leaders! Big Mortar told me that they had a hundred mortars! A hundred! They never got a chance to use them!

“Lady Judy did the duke proud!”

“Leave me, Vosper. I need time to think!”

IV

Gamelin approached his wife in her council room and bowed.

“We need to talk,” he told her.

“Indeed. The rest of you, please leave us.”

The palace staff hurried out at their mistress’ bidding.

“They never move that fast when I command, Judy,” Gamelin lamented.

Judy shrugged. “Nearly all of them are Olmechan. They look at you as a foreigner.”

“And they love you, even if you are too,” Gamelin said firmly.

Judy shrugged again. “I understand them; I was far closer to their social status than yours, Gamelin. My father was a master craftsman. I see things from their perspective. Honestly, the noble point of view is foreign to me.”

“You’ve learned it well enough,” her husband observed sourly.

“And you know it’s all an act, Gamelin. I may do it well, but it’s not the real me.”

“I have never spoken of it, my wife.”

“You’d have killed us both if you had. Do you understand why I asked that of you?”

“Our enemies are right next to us,” he replied.

“The Duke’s nanny was a spy, sent to kill his son at the right time. King Freidal’s batman was a spy; a man who had taught Freidal everything about a soldier’s life–except how to deal with a man who bided his time to kill Freidal or his wife.”

“And not only have I been no help...I’ve worked at counter purposes,” Gamelin confessed.

“Gamelin, you were hurt. And I was bemused by the things given to me that I might have dreamed of, but never expected. I became an officer. Then a senior officer and then the High King said I was a noble. Oh, how I strutted–when I thought my betters couldn’t see me!

“I owe Tanda Havra more than I’ve ever owed anyone. She brought me down from on high, reminded me that there are more than a thousand majors in the counties in the High King’s lands service and more barons than dogs have fleas. There was nothing special about becoming a noble.”

Gamelin nodded. “Dearest Judy, I have been a fool. Everyone around me either thinks it, and some of the people I respect the most have said it to my face.

“Vosper said I should go to the sword butts and swing a blade for a palm width or two. I couldn’t manage half a palm width. He said I should run with the scouts for a time. Hah! A finger width, and not even a fat finger is all I can manage! I am not a true man any longer. My manhood...”

Judy restrained the urge to laugh. “My brother fought in the same war that Duke Tuck fought in. He took part in a very long siege, and it was our king’s soldiers who were beset.

“He told me that one day he dreamt that he could see a bullet coming right at his nose. It got larger and larger, and just as it hit he’d wake. The dream kept repeating over and over. He couldn’t sleep.

“His sergeant noticed that my brother was always tired and asked him what was wrong. My brother was too tired to be proud–he told the sergeant about his dreams. The sergeant laughed and told him that his nose was steel and bullets would bounce off.

“Sure enough, he had the dream again and the bullets started bouncing off, and after that he was fine.

“The funny thing he told me was when he was back and training new recruits, he was working in the rifle pits. He turned around, and as he did, a spent round actually did hit him in the nose and it actually did bounce off.” And he had laughed himself silly, but Judy didn’t mention that to her husband.

“Gamelin, there is a chance you are worrying too much about this. Certainly, there have been times when your manhood hasn’t failed, even after you became a White Hair. Please, I know it is hard, but dream of something other than failure.”

V

Countess Noia listened patiently as Phelen listed the materials they had received from King Freidal. When he finished, she smiled slightly. “You need to start listing the items we require, rather than what we have.”

“Nails, Countess. Ahead of anything else, nails. A ship uses an incredible number of them, and our smiths still make them by hand, one at a time. We have a dozen smiths working on the task full time, but the work is dull, boring and masters do not like being given what they consider as scut work, so they give it to the journeymen, who push if off to the apprentices. So the work isn’t as good as needed and there is much waste.”

“Sails? Cordage?” she asked.

“We have bought most of the hemp crop from the southern portion of the Central Valley. We make sails and cordage both from the fiber. About a third of the women in North Port now weave sails, and the rope walks have been extended and they work night and day.

“Countess, as dire as our need for raw materials, there are a dozen fishing boats being built by private parties, using the new techniques, the new sails and rigging. There was a deficit of raw materials before we started on _Vengeance_. It has only gotten worse,” Phelen concluded.

“And those men are coming down from Echinistra who don’t want to sign up for the king’s colors, but who want to fish instead. There is much good fishing off here; North Port had a large output of fish before my brother. Dried, salted in brine, smoked: every way you can imagine to preserve fish. We are going to have far more people than the county ever held before, what with the king’s navy base to be built here over the next few years. We can forbid sales of cannon and fireseed, but nothing else. Queen Elspeth told me that in her home sailing ships, private ships, could sail to raid an enemy’s shipping–pirates by another name, who have a royal remit to take enemies.

“There are many problems with that,” Noia admitted as she saw Phelen shake his head vigorously, “but forewarned is forearmed.”

“That is like letting a fox patrol the hen house for strays,” Phelen said stiffly.

“What you say is the truth such men do have to be watched carefully. But we must think of inventive ways to discommode our enemies. For one thing, they could do the same thing to us, and probably would quickly copy the tactic.”

“Then it will depend on how good each side’s sailors are,” Phelen observed astutely.

“My brother turned up his nose at fishermen. The only time I know of that he set foot in a ship was the day he fled. My brother did not sit with our father on court days. He made an absolute hash of running the county. Even before I reached Baytown, he’d lost all my father’s loyal retainers. He even drove away the kitchen drudges!”

“That may have been intentional, Countess.”

“It might have been intentional, but I heard that he was overpaying for everything.”

“My lady, you won’t like what I think,” Phelen said.

“What do you think?”

“Suppose he knew he was being overcharged and just didn’t care. He taxed everyone heavily and then he killed them. Such men are prone to severe retribution for even fancied insults. A real one?” Phelen shivered, his bulk quivering.

“An honest man with a good relationship with his people doesn’t have to worry about being gulled, and if he finds out he has, as my father did, post their names in the commons as cheats. Few could stand up to it. None, in my experience.”

“That is in a well-run county, my lady. You are right–a badly run county becomes a latrine trench.”

“Enough! Back to nails. We will buy more stock from the mines at Iron Mountain. It will be wrought iron, but good enough for nails. You have a trading factor there, don’t you?”

“Yes, Countess. Buying the iron in bulk will save a lot of Kalvans, but we will be competing with the cannon makers in Baytown,” Phelen responded.

Noia grinned. “Have your factor inquire if any of the cannon makers would be interested in plying their trade in North Port. Don’t actually hire any, but let the rumor circulate. I bet we will get a good price on wrought iron in quantities insufficient to build cannon, but more than enough for what we actually need.”

Phelen barked a laugh. “Ha! You are starting to think like I do, my lady!”


	8. More Skirmishes

I

Still, the sea sickness meant when Jako reached their destination, he was one of the first men off the ship albeit carried on a stretcher. He was loaded into a wagon that traveled where he knew not, nor did Jako care. He was put in a tent and a priest of Galzar attended him.

Before the sun set that day, Roric and Tertium visited him. “You survived,” the sergeant said.

“I suppose I have to say thanks, Roric. I’ll have to think about it, as I’m not sure it was a favor.”

“You understand that you suffered some of the same symptoms as those who came down with the plague. The countess suffered for three days like that. Only it wasn’t just things that went down that came out. She was emptied out.”

“I don’t envy her the experience, although only three days would have been nice,” Jako replied.

Roric laughed nastily. “Captain Gryllos never got sick, Jumper did, about the same as the countess. Colonel Legios took a half moon to recover enough strength to stand. Count Gamelin–a full moon. Like many of those who were the most seriously ill, these days he sports a head of white hair.”

“I can’t imagine surviving a moon of this.”

“Captains and counts aren’t like you are I. Colonel Legios had a princess to wipe his brow. The count had the countess. I can’t think but that it helps to know what you’re fighting for.”

“I’ll be ready go tomorrow, Roric.”

“You might be ready, Recruit Jako, but half of the company has been affected. I don’t know how long we will be here, but we won’t be moving out tomorrow. Rest now.”

Just before Jako went to sleep the priest gave him a bowl of beef soup. It tasted better than any soup he’d ever had before, even if it was nothing but broth. And, miracles of miracles it stayed down. He slept content.

In the morning he was ravenous, although he had trouble finishing a second bowl of soup. The second bowl even had some over-boiled vegetables that dissolved with the least pressure from his tongue.

At lunch he had stew, not soup, and felt even better yet. Tertium appeared and offered him a shoulder to hobble around the camp for a few finger widths, under the watchful eye of one of the priests’ assistants.

Tertium waved at a rope line along one edge of the camp. “They put us on the edge of the cliff along here overlooking the sea. Don’t go past the rope line. Roric says he’s seen the edge from below and he wouldn’t get anywhere close to it.”

The man waved at a cluster of buildings not far off. “This village is a way point. There’s a ferry across the Great Northern River about twenty miles away. Ships can’t enter the river; the current is too strong. We’ll ferry across day after tomorrow. We’ll march it, because it is simply amazing how badly sea travel affected the company.

“There’s a cluster of warehouses and docks down at the bottom of this cliff. Ships stop here, offload their cargoes, and turn back south. Maybe half the year ships that try to go north from here dice with death; the storms are wicked fierce, and the rain and fog leave you unsure where you are. Ship captains hope to get this far north, and there are a dozen ports like this up and down the coast. If they see any storm or fog signs, they head towards the closest one, particularly if it’s further south.”

“I am ashamed, Tertium. I’ve never been this weak. Not ever.”

“Don’t be, Jako. I took a knock on the head a year ago. Someone swung a tube around without looking where he was swinging. I spent a day where I was blind, with two days throwing up, and I had headaches for a moon. They kept me running messages in the headquarters for three solid moons. And if I was given a message to deliver? I was excused for the rest of the day.” He laughed, “It took another entire moon before sergeants stopped kicking me in the butt after I finally returned to full duty. I was too slow and too lazy for their taste.”

“I owe those who helped me,” Jako averred.

“Jako, trust me on this. The High King’s soldiers help each other. Always. We come back for our men who are wounded, we see to the needs of the wounded ahead of our own needs. You know one of things that got the countess her county?”

“There’s more I haven’t heard? I’ve heard just about every story imaginable.”

“Roric was there, you understand. He saw it with his own eyes. The redoubt was a charnel house.” Tertium waved at the camp. “It was maybe two-thirds the size of this camp. There were more than seven hundred dead in it, afterwards. Seven hundred! And what had the countess and her people had time for during that battle? Their dead were in neat rows and the wounded were as far back as was possible, with the countess and the survivors between their brothers and the enemy. Neat, orderly rows; just like you’d find in camp.

“There’s not a man in Tecpan who wouldn’t follow her into battle.”

Jako swallowed. “I said it before...we walk in the shadows of giants. The giants from the legends we’ve been told of. Only they are here, now, walking among us.”

Tertium nodded. “I was born within sight of the Eastern Ocean. My father and my grandfather had never been out of our prince’s lands, not in their whole lives. Now I have not only seen the Western Ocean, I’ve sailed on it! I’ve seen the greatest town in the Great Kingdoms! Xiphlon! I’ve stood in the square at Xipototec and watched Duke Tuck standing between Countess Judy and Tanda Havra. Now I’ve seen the King of Zarthan with my own eyes! Giants indeed, Jako! And I’ve seen them! Some day I’ll have sons, tall and strong, and they will think me addled when I tell them my stories.”

Jako nodded and they continued the walk. Roric stopped them a short while later.

“The priests tell me that you’re weak, and will be for a while, but they think that day after tomorrow you’ll be fit to walk twenty miles to the ferry. It will be an easy march. Men will only have to carry a rifle or shotgun, and their basic ammunition, everything else will be on wagons.

“As I said, it will be an easy march. Major Gryllos is sending the wagons on ahead, although they won’t be traveling any faster than we will be. There will be time for one ferry trip before nightfall. Jako, I know you’re tired, but Major Gryllos would like a scout out ahead of the column. This is all unknown territory and we have the most cursory of maps.

“They tell him there are two more rivers we will have to ferry across before we reach North Port, but look around us! Everything is covered with trees and the trees are covered with moss. It hasn’t rained yet, but it will.

“They seem to treat any river that’s not as big as the Great Northern River as barely significant. We can’t afford to lose men and equipment, so the major wants to know what’s in front of us.”

“Roric, I’m much better. I don’t think I can do twenty miles today, but by tomorrow I can. The day after? No problem at all. I’ll be happy to scout ahead.”

“These are much more traveled lands than you are used to. Do be careful! The Northern Ruthani last year raided many towns and farms, and you don’t have a sign saying ‘Don’t shoot!’ on your back.”

“Trust me, Roric. I saw Zarthani scouts after the Mud River. They never saw me. It will be like that here.”

“Spend the night in the priests’ tents. Tomorrow early, let them look you over. Please, it’s important. I can’t let you go forward without their leave.”

“I know the importance you place on doing what I’m told. I’ve never wanted to do anything as much as I want to do this right. We are commanded by giants and we will do great things! I want to brag about it to all those of my village who thought I’d never amount to anything.”

“Get a good’s night sleep. Get the priests’ blessings tomorrow. Spend the day tomorrow getting your gear ready to go north. You have been, Recruit, rather neglecting it.”

“Yes, Roric!”

Dinner was a stew with actual meat in it, and Jako devoured it, still famished. At least his stomach was growing larger and he could fit more in!

*** ** ***

It was embarrassing. Jako woke in the middle of the night, needing to visit the jakes most urgently. His system was still recovering and his visits were irregular. Evidently the full mug of beer had been too much.

He looked around when he got outside his tent. He could see the rope that marked the cliff edge not far away. He glanced at the jakes. The rope was less than a third the distance; he knew that not using the field jakes was a serious offense, except he was desperate. He ran crouched, but as fast as he could. He prayed to his gods, slipped under the rope and peed off the edge. He was wary, but the ground didn’t give way, and best of all, the wind blew down the cliff instead of upwards.

He finished and backed up a step, for the first time looking down and outwards. It was misty; he had little experience with fog, but he was sure that was what he was seeing rise up.

The sky was dark, with many heavy clouds obscuring the stars.

It was sudden, as such things occasionally are. The clouds parted for a moment and the moon shown it’s cold light over the sea. There were a cluster of masts at the base of the cliff, but his gaze didn’t go there, but to the two large ships sailing silently past, about a mile out to sea.

He briefly contemplated going back to bed, then he remembered his duty. “Sergeant of the Guard! Post Number–Damned if I know! Intruders!” he shouted.

There was an instant shrill of whistles and two men came pelting up to him. One was a sergeant he recognized as Kemnos. “Sergeant, I just saw two ships out there headed north. They were even larger than the one we sailed on.”

Jumper was there and sniffed the air. “Fog, I think.” 

Major Gryllos was next. “What did you see again?”

“Just for a moment, sir. The moon broke through the clouds. I could see two ships sailing north about a mile away. They were large, sir.”

“Where’s that liaison with the Zarthanis?”

“Here, Lord!” a man said.

“My scout says he saw two ships, large ships, sailing north, a mile out to sea. Are they your king’s?”

“No large ships should be here, and not that close to shore, sailing north. The mouth of the Great Northern River is just a few miles north; even large ships would be at risk. The river’s current is very fast, Lord. It acts as a dam when the tide comes in, and that is very dangerous. Hit it at the wrong time and it’s like driving your ship on the rocks. The wind, sir, is from the north. Like as not they will tack and turn west.”

“How long would it take to turn them all the way around?”

“Why sail up the coast and turn around and go back the way you came, Lord? A finger width, a bit less, maybe.”

The man shook his head and essayed an opinion. “They might fire on the shipping in the port, Lord, but those are only fishing boats. A waste of shot and shell.”

Roric had arrived. “Plunging shot, Major. It might not be very accurate, but it’s why we placed the camp so close to the cliff. They are likely to do some damage to the town behind us, though.”

“Kemnos! Tubes up! Action west! Roric, secure the baggage train!” If Jako had thought the whistles had been loud before, he learned something new.

Men hauled and carried, and in less than a finger width there were a row of tubes. He’d seen mortars up to now. He’d watched them set up, but there hadn’t been any practice shots, even.

“Damn dark,” Major Gryllos said to no one in particular.

“There was fog coming up, sir,” Jako told him. “I could see a mile, but it was getting thicker.”

“Wonderful!” The major lifted his voice. “Gun captains, you are likely to only see the muzzle flashes of cannon. This will be a great test of your art!”

A light flared just a bit north of the camp. At once there was a row of flashes from at sea. Jako had never heard cannon shot go overhead before, and he vowed he’d try to avoid the experience again.

“Roric, there is a spy who just lit a flare north of camp. Kill him!”

“Sir! Squad to me!”

Jako turned to go, only to have Jumper put his hand on his arm. “Not you, Jako.”

“I want to be with my squad!”

Jumper pitched his voice low. “And what would you fight with? Or were you planning on pissing on them too?”

Jako jerked back in surprise. “Not as easy to smell as rancid bear fat, Jako, but easy enough for a Ruthani boy to smell!”

The exchange was a few steps away from anyone. Only Major Gryllos was close and Jako wasn’t sure he heard.

“I have never had trouble holding my water since I was still carried on my mother’s back. Tonight...I couldn’t, I just couldn’t.”

“The Lion of the Ruthani hunted the mountain cats! His daughter, the Lady Puma, has hunted them as well. If they couldn’t hold their water, they’d have died quickly!”

“It won’t happen again, I swear it!”

“If you fail to do as you are told, even once more, Jako, you’ll be sent home.” The boy stalked off.

All of this had distracted Jako. There had been crashes in the village behind them, but then a series of sharp explosions along the cliff as the Heavy Weapons Company fired their own guns in response.

Out to sea there were two gouts of flame. Major Gryllos could see them as well. “Good shooting! Now wait!”

It was quick, Jako thought. One heartbeat there were two specks of flame, then the flames shot up into the air. In a moment, you could see a second ship, hastily changing course to avert a collision.

If Jako could see it, so could the gun captains. They might have hit only twice when they couldn’t see their targets, but there were six hits when they could.

“Lieutenant Menardes! A party of shotgunners! Fifty! Take the men assigned to base plates and tubes! Get to the village below, take prisoner any survivors from those ships! Any man who calls ‘Oath to Galzar’ is to be held according to the Oath and kept separate. Officers, no matter what oaths they swear, are to be separated from the others.”

From along the top of cliff came a single shot, a pistol, Jako was sure.

Out to sea there was a huge pillar of flame and sparks as the two ships died. The second ship had been unable to avoid a collision and now they burned together.

Jako wished he had something to do anything. “Jumper, find Roric. Fetch me his report!” the major ordered.

“Yes, sir!” the boy was off in a flash.

The major pulled Jako off to one side. “You did well. If you think you had trouble holding water tonight, just think upon the journey here from South Port. Did you do better or worse?”

“Sir, I remember nothing of the voyage.”

“No one will talk to you about it; half of these men were sick with the plague. If you haven’t had the plague, you would be appalled at the quantity and nature of the fluids your body produces. It is something we endure without comment from our brothers.”

“I didn’t do like I was told.”

“Jumper is a fine young man. He needs more time to learn to be humble. Many years ago, I was a new officer on my way to join Grand Marshal Hestophes. I was on a ferry, crossing the Great Father River when a horse kicked me over the side. Men came to my aid; me, a man known to none of them. They saved my life.

“But, like too many rivers, there is disease there. I got very, very sick. It took all the skills of the priests to keep me alive. For nearly a moon I lay unmoving, hovering between life and death. Once you’ve been through that, you appreciate the services of the priests and their attendants as much as life itself. They never complain, they ask only that you stay as healthy as you can, after. I don’t think they ask too much, Jako.”

“No, sir, I don’t think they ask too much. Truth, it’s we who ask too much of ourselves. It’s so easy to hold an exalted opinion of ourselves.”

The major laughed and clapped Jako on the back. “If you’ve learned that, you might just possibly be alive when we return! Don’t ever forget it, Jako.”

Jumper came running back. “The shot was from the spy. He was a bad shot, but he threw himself from the cliff. Roric has sent two men to be sure.”

“Good.” The major drew himself up. “Men! You can see our handiwork! I imagine so can everyone else! The Heavy Weapons Company has arrived!”

There were cheers and Jako joined in, although he didn’t join as heartily as he felt.

II

Rellin looked at his second-in-command, as they sat in his cabin drinking well-watered wine, discussing the ordinary business of the ship. Finally, his best friend, apologetically, raised an important question. “Capt’n, the men...many of them have served with us for years. They are nervous about sailing into uncharted territory, unknown reefs and shoals. Sure we are throwing the lead every turn of the glass, but shallow water can come unexpected like.”

“True. But, unexpected like, we are working for forgiveness for all of our sins for all of us. Imagine, my friend, being able to walk down the street and not have to worry about the City Watch?”

“I can imagine it, but some of the men don’t trust nobles to keep their word.”

Rellin smiled lightly. “I have a signed letter from the king, forgiving all our crimes. I have heard no man say he has ever gone against his pledged word. The letter is also signed by the Admiral of the Western Ocean, Countess Noia.”

“You said once I had met the countess, but you never said where,” his First Mate said.

“I didn’t tell you and I didn’t tell the others because you might get the idea that her word is worthless when she had to lie to survive. I imagine if such a man as Alcibydos was hunting you, you might not tell people who you were either.”

“One heartbeat, she’s in North Port, and then a few moons later she turns up in Harphax City near old Hostigos,” the mate said.

“Ha, my old friend! Not many men have had a countess serving under their command. And I recall a few swats in the butt with your cane,” Rellin said with a laugh.

“I am as brave as the next man, but not brave enough to switch a countess.”

“She wasn’t a countess at the time. She was Noius.”

“The stripling lad? Ugly as...” his voice trailed off.

“Don’t tell everyone at once. Only the steadiest hands, and caution them not to talk about her with the others.”

“Which will hold for a finger width unless someone bleats it out in the first heartbeat.”

“It is enough that you tell them not to talk about it with the others. In a day, everyone but the laggards will know. The next day, even the laggards will have heard. Out of respect for their captain, a secret shared by you with them will go somewhat slower.”

“You have not lost any of your deviousness, Captain!”

“I hope not, for all of our sakes!”

The two men shared a laugh.

Captain Rellin turned serious. “While we are not mapping accurately, we are certainly estimating things very closely. The island to the northwest is the largest island. We are a third of the way, I believe, in rounding it. The High King’s map shows that if we parallel the coast, when this island ends, we should be able to see the next one. Then another and another, before a final gap of fifty or so miles until the last group.

“We make notes of anything we see, above all where they are.”

“And we take frequent sightings with the new instruments and read the time carefully. My friend, I have something else Countess Noia gave me for the task.”

He brought out a large box and when opened there was another inside that held a tube about a foot long. “This is something the High King reserves for sea captains alone. It is an adaptation of Duke Tuck’s far-seeing glasses. Twice a watch I go aloft on the foremast...there is no watcher there. I use it on the shoreline.”

“And what does this do?” the First Mate asked.

“It was a Lost Ruthani young woman who designed it, but she died in the war. What would have happened if she had lived!

“She wrote many observations about light passing through glass. She figured out that if the glass was convex, it pulled the light more tightly together. She tried things over and over, different combinations. Tanda Havra found the diagrams for this device among her things after she had been killed.”

“And what does this ‘pull light together’ mean for us?” the captain’s friend asked.

“All know the story of how Countess Judy saw something in the distance the day the fighting started in the war. Lord Tuck used his far-seeing glasses and saw it was smoke and pointed it out to Count Gamelin. The count looked for himself and thus alerted the Hostigi town of Outpost that someone had attacked and burned a Lost Ruthani town.”

“Yes. With it, at the last watch change I saw what looked like a ship’s masts, bare yards, anchored off the coast here. It is why I ordered a northward tack...I doubt if anyone keeps lookouts active at anchor.”

“You always see to it,” the mate said.

Rellin laughed. “When you are smugglers, you can’t take enough care. If I know anything about men, the crew of despots do the least they think they can get away with.”

“And why show this to me?” the mate asked.

“Two sets of eyes are better than one. And if the crew knows that a Lost Ruthani girl designed this, they won’t think it sorcerous.”

The mate laughed even harder than his captain had. “You hear a lot of stories about sorcerers, but that’s just what they are: stories. There is nothing sorcerous about a shotgun, but a few years ago people might have wondered.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll be using it from on deck. Your job will be to quell the curiosity of the men. As a reward, come nightfall I’ll give you a special treat.”

“But you won’t tell me about it?”

“It is something you have to see for yourself,” his captain told him.

The mate shook his head. “Better to say it was the High King’s idea. The crew will be certain it is sorcerous if you claim a Ruthani women had the idea.”

“I talked to that man of Countess Noia at the start of summer. Was it ‘simple mechanic arts’ that allowed two dozen carpenters to slaughter more than a hundred wild Ruthani at Princeton? When the garrison of a thousand had no effect on them?

“Or was it sorcery?”

“Phelen? I saw him lift a two hundred and fifty pound barrel and put it on one shoulder. Sorcery.” Then he laughed and the captain joined him.

“Aye. I saw him grab a hogshead of nails from a man struggling with it, slap it on one shoulder, take another and put it on his other shoulder and walk up the gangway from the dock and down into the hold. An uncommonly strong logistos. Then there was Tanda Sa of the countess’s party. The size of three normal men! A no-blood brother to Tanda Havra, full blood son of the Lion of the Ruthani.”

“I think we have finally joined the winning side,” the mate said.

“I expect so.”

III

Dirzed heard his father call his name and he saluted the weapons master and faced, turned and ran to his father. At sixteen he was a tall and rangy boy, dark-complexioned, with his hair cut short as all the other boys in the Assassin’s Academy had been shorn.

He stood proud, looking at his father with curious interest.

“Dirzed, you have visitors,” he was told.

Dirzed frowned. His mother was a servant of his father’s, but she would never be called a visitor. The last time he’d had anything like a visitor was the day six years before when the Head of Guild of Assassins had come and made him remember Dirzed’s last carnate existence.

Dirzed had long known he had been carnate before as an assassin, and the memories, while interesting and fascinating, hadn’t meant much to him. Except his death of course. Assassins died every day, but not many of them had deaths as heroic as his had been!

“Yes, father,” Dirzed said meekly, uncertain who the guests could be.

“Things have been very different these last years,” his father told him, as he gestured Dirzed towards the main building of the Academy. “We knew that people were reincarnated after they died, but twenty years ago we learned that you could remember your past lives, we learned a lot of things, things that threw our society into a great deal of turmoil. A great many members of the Guild were discarnated in a very short period of time.”

Dirzed nodded. “I have studied history father, and I know that my former carnate persona was discarnated in those disputes.”

“Yes. That’s why you have a surprise waiting for you in my office.”

He led Dirzed straight there, but didn’t go in. “Her ladyship has asked that you speak to her and her husband alone, Dirzed. I ask that you remember who you are and where you are. The past has passed, young man!”

Mystified, he stepped through the door. The woman he knew instantly. “Lady Dallona!” With a serious pang, for the first time he found himself face to face with a loss that men have borne from the beginning of time, but only now had come to realize the loss.

The beautiful woman before him was Lady Dallona of Hadron, the woman whom he had accepted a job from after his long-time patron, Garnon of Roxor, had discorporated himself, and in doing so proved a theory of reincarnation that had resulted in millions of discarnations. Lady Dallona had been the researcher whose work had provided the basis for Garnon’s proof.

In the subsequent battles, he’d died protecting her. He had died with two regrets, he knew. One that he’d died instead of lived, unable to protect her further and died wishing she was more than his employer. He’d loved her in the short weeks he’d known her like he’d never loved another in all his carnate existence.

The man with her was familiar too, but less so. And he was her husband? Dirzed firmed his back and stood taller. Both of these two had stayed carnate, while he and his friend Olirzon had died. If Virzal of Vall had survived, then he was an even better fighter than two trained assassins!

He’d known almost from the first moment that he had a rival in Virzal; it was clear that Lady Dallona knew him and equally clear that Lord Virzal wasn’t a relative.

That was when he realized something odd. Lady Dallona had been in her forties, blonde and beautiful. So had Lord Virzal and so had Dirzed been. Now, in a new carnate existence, Dirzed was sixteen and she looked younger than before and Lord Virzal looked unchanged. They should have been sixty! Not unchanged.

“Hello, Dirzed,” Lady Dallona said. “I understand that you remember me.”

“Yes, my Lady, I remember you.”

“And this is my husband, Lord Virzal.”

“He was just your friend in those days, Lady Dallona,” Dirzed said neutrally.

“Your father was very pleased that now that people can remember their past carnate lives, education has been changed from that in the past. That you remember most of what you knew before, but still have to work to attain the physical skills you once had.”

“Yes, Lady Dallona,” he said, keeping his voice bland.

“There are a number of reasons why we need a young man of your caliber and talents,” Lord Virzal told him. “A man of proven courage, loyalty and a myriad of other talents of somewhat lesser importance.”

Dirzed knew flattery when he heard it, but he inclined his head a short distance and shrugged.

“If you would be interested in such a job, a job, I might add, that will be on the same terms as for any other member of your Guild, you have but to nod agreement. A handshake and we’ll be on our way to Venus,” Lord Virzal told him.

“And my father approves?”

“Not entirely,” Lady Dallona admitted. “But you would be protecting two young women of about your age now. Two women in dire need of protection.”

He’d been trained in that for a very long time. “I can do that,” he said mildly.

“The question is then, will you?” Lord Virzal asked him.

“Yes,” he told them. “I know my father disapproves, but schooling chafes. I am very nearly at the same physical level as I was before, and while I still lack some of the complex reactions, I make up for it with considerable speed.”

“Come then, we have a rocket waiting at the space port. Gather a few things and we’ll leave.”

It was, Dirzed knew, how true members of his guild worked. Handshakes with a few friends, sling your bag over your shoulder and off you went.

“Yes, Lord Virzal.”

He gathered his few things, what little he possessed, while his father watched from the door of the room he shared with another. “You will do this?”

“Yes, father.”

“Do the guild proud, my son! Show those bastards on Venus what it means to hire a true Assassin!”

He’d shaken his father’s hand and not much later was being pressed into his seat as the rocket lifted from the spaceport. He knew little of such things, because while he could pilot most atmospheric aircraft, spaceships were expensive and treated with respect by all.

Lord Virzal called him to the main cabin after they had lifted. “Normally at this time of year, Dirzed, it would be five, nearly six days to Venus,” he was told.

“Yes, sir. I understand the planets in their courses.”

“I want your oath, Dirzed, your most solemn oath. Not just as an Assassin, but as man of honor, a man who serves others as few do, at the risk of their own carnate existence.”

“It goes without saying,” Dirzed told him, a little miffed.

“No, not this time,” Lady Dallona told him. “This time you must say the words. We are going to entrust you with a great secret–a secret my husband has killed scores of men to protect, and I have killed as well to protect it.”

“I swear on my honor as an Assassin that I will not reveal your secrets. I swear on my personal honor as well, although in truth, my personal honor is involved solely with my requirements to meet my Guild oaths.”

“Watch, then,” Lord Virzal told him, gesturing at a view screen that showed the black of space and the hard pinpricks of stars.

A rainbow of colors started to rotate around them, Dirzed fixed on a point so he wouldn’t become dizzy. There was a quick blink on the view screen.

“Do you know what that blink means, Dirzed?” Lord Virzal asked him.

“No, Lord, I do not.”

“That was us moving from a universe, the universe that you know and grew up in, to another.”

Dirzed turned to him in astonishment. “But sir! My soul! Will it be able to find its way home?”

“No,” Lady Dallona told him roughly. “Souls seem to be bound to the universe they find themselves in when the carnate body dies.”

There was another blink, then a moment later another. They blinks grew shorter and closer together. In a minute you couldn’t see them any more.

“There are many universes,” Dirzed said, flummoxed.

“Trillions of trillions, Dirzed,” Lord Virzal told him. “Think for a moment of simple things. A universe where you had a cold today and stayed in bed. A universe where you wore a gray cloak instead of a black cloak. Where you wore your favorite boots instead of the new pair. Every tiny decision, every last random chance, no matter how unlikely each is the seed of a new universe.”

Dirzed felt dizzy. “My Lord, may I have your leave to sit?”

“Of course, Dirzed.”

He sat, and for a moment watched the viewscreen. “We aren’t going to Venus, are we?”

“No, we’re not. Right now we are on a course that will return us to Earth in a few hours.”

“What is it you wish of me?”

“As we told you, there are two people, two special young women, who need protection. They are both roughly your age. One is a countess, a title the equal to that which I possess and much higher than Lady Dallona’s rank.” Dirzed was unprepared when Lady Dallona stuck her tongue out at her husband.

“The second young woman has the title of Lady, but no land rank to go with it. She is many, many things...among them the spy master for her friend. She is the same age as her friend both lacking twenty summers.”

“And she is but nineteen?”

“Yes. Understand, Dirzed, that these titles that these two have weren’t inherited...they were won. Countess Judy won hers on a battlefield, after a battle so stark that all men saluted her bravery afterwards.

“Lady Lydia has her title because she is so very efficient at what she does. It is said that a baby does not squall at night in her city that she doesn’t know about by dawn.

“You are familiar enough with history to understand plagues.”

“Of course, but we conquered them all many centuries ago.”

“And these people are from a place where they have not had those centuries. A year ago plague walked their lands. Lady Judy, Dirzed, saved 95 out of a hundred of her people. She organized, she led, she rolled up her sleeves and helped with the sick. There was no task too mean for her to do, none of her people so insignificant that she didn’t care about them individually. She won the people’s hearts, Dirzed.”

“And there are still those that wish to kill her! It is like that at home!” he exclaimed.

“Yes. A few years after Lady Dallona and I met you, enemies in our home were found plotting against the government, much as the Statisticalists did where you are from. These men infiltrated our government, our institutions and spread through the universes as a plague. They believe in slavery, they believe in absolute rule of tyrants, and of course, it is they who wish to be the tyrants.

“We thought we’d thrown them down, but now it appears that some of them have survived. Now their plots quicken, and once again my people are threatened, and so are the universes, and this one we travel to in particular.

“I swear to you Dirzed, that we have spent many, many years agonizing over the things we have done ourselves, among the universes. Once upon a time, we were confined to Earth and we exhausted our resources. Some of us turned to war, and rendered the planet uninhabitable. Others turned inward, rejected technology and returned to agrarian, simple lives.”

“Simple, but brutish and short,” Lady Dallona said.

“Lord, you speak of many outcomes in one place. Does that mean that like us, you have universes?”

“It does, Dirzed.

“We have looked at ourselves in the mirror, Dirzed. For a long time we have gotten lazy, complacent and unwilling to change. But we must. We are no longer planet bound, and even the material in just our own solar system is more that we can use in ten thousand lifetimes.”

“Dirzed, our people are no longer permitted to go many places. Your home is one of them. We had to petition our government for special permission to go there. You see, if we disincarnate there, our secret would be revealed.”

He was quick, Dirzed was. “If you can no longer go back, then neither can I.”

“That’s right,” Lady Dallona. “At least, that’s partly right. We can remove your memories and place new ones in your head. When we get where we are going you will be given a final choice. Help us or return home. If you return home, you will be set to guarding two girls of a relative of Lord Virzal’s, indeed they are your age. They are indeed in danger, but mostly from their lack of ability to detect their enemies. You would have your work cut out for you!”

“To the matter at hand. When we arrive you can return, with no memories of this conversation, or elect to continue on. Once you are actually on duty, you would no longer have the option of changing your mind.”

Dirzed was offended again. “No proper Assassin would ever consider withdrawing from a contract!”

“But, as you know, not all Assassins are proper,” Lord Virzal told him. “I apologize, I was trying to be complete, it was not my intention to offend you.

“If you stay, we will add knowledge to that which you already possess...language, customs, history. Your memories would not be otherwise affected. Then we would place you in a position where you could take service with these people.”

“These is a tiny problem that my husband is not mentioning,” Lady Dallona told him. “They know there are plots running against them. To put it mildly, they don’t trust strangers. Even if you were to save their lives a thousand times, you would not be trusted, not until the plotters are destroyed and they are sure that you weren’t one of them.”

“Two years ago, we thought them doomed. Their enemies outnumbered them ten thousand times over, and I do not exaggerate,” Lord Virzal went on. “Then the plague came and ate their enemies. You should know the nature of those you will protect: when they learned the nature of the plague, they did their best to save as many of their enemies as they could. But their enemies panicked and died in the millions. It was a very great evil that was done.”

“But they tried to help?” Dirzed whispered.

“Yes, even unto succoring the army of their enemies, leaving almost a million men alive when they could have turned their backs and let all but a few thousand die.”

“How could you turn your back on death like that?” Dirzed asked.

“You know the truth of that, Dirzed. Men do wicked things to gain and cling to power. As did the Statisticalists among you. They used nuclear weapons on cities, before the Assassin’s Guild enforced a truce.”

Dirzed nodded. It had taken a good bit of persuasion to keep the peace, but then more and more of the Statisticalist’s plans had been revealed, plans to burn cities to the ground, to smash planets to dust if they could not have their way. The real peace had come because there were no more Statisticalists.

“Sometimes Dirzed, even well-intentioned people find themselves in an impossible place when it comes to honor,” Lady Dallona continued. “Decisions that reveal complexities that were never imagined as you and your comrades learned in the battle where you were discarnated. One man switched sides because his employer broke the rules. Yet, supposedly, loyalty should unreservedly go to your employer.”

“Except when they break the rules,” Dirzed said, as if explaining a law of thermodynamics.

“And who sets the rules? Well-intentioned men and women who sit at a table far removed from a bitter battle fought tooth and nail. They can’t take everything into account, Dirzed, although they try.”

Dirzed nodded.

“So, we have made mistakes. And when you’re over-confident, arrogant, and used to getting your way, when you make a mistake it is usually a colossal one. We have played God for far too long, Dirzed, and now the well-intentioned men and women of our home are going to try to do the right thing. But that cannot mean that friends and allies should be left in the lurch, and certainly not left as prey for the worst among us.

“So, for now, we fight back, seeking to preserve our friends as best we can,” Dallona concluded.

“One of the problems we face,” Lord Virzal told him, “is that many of our own people, in spite of what we thought was adequate testing of their loyalty, are plotters against us. No one likes having to go through their ranks seeking traitors amongst their brothers and sisters. But when such traitors exist, you either find them or they will work their dark deeds against you until you find that you can no longer resist them.

“Which is where you come in. My people don’t trust people like you, not with anything technical. The mere fact that we can move between universes is a secret that we routinely deal out death to maintain.”

“People like me?” Dirzed asked, his voice suddenly taut with anger.

“People from the other universes–every one of you. In our home, we keep people like you to clean our toilets, and all the other underclass jobs.”

“And you expect me to cheer and help you defeat your enemies? It sounds better if I should join them and discarnate the lot of you!”

“Except my people are, at long last, waking to the fact that we’ve been wrong for a very long time now, that what we are doing is wrong and that we have to make amends as best we can. Our enemies would set you to cleaning toilets, but with a slave yoke around your neck. At home, Outtimers–people like you–after a generation can become citizens with the same rights as the rest of us. Not so among our enemies. They prefer to have their boots on the necks of others, rather than offering them a helping hand to work towards a better tomorrow for all.”

“Still, it would be easy to wish a pox on all of your houses,” Dirzed said that, then bowed his head in chagrin for speaking so quickly. “Lord Virzal, Lady Dallona–I did not think.”

“Dirzed,” Lord Virzal said, “suppose you were in a crowded place with a number of your fellow Guild members, having a good time. Then someone sneaks up and tosses a gas bomb among you, killing all but you. That man turns and runs into the crowd. Tell me, Dirzed, do you take the shot at the man’s back, knowing that if you miss, you’ll kill an innocent?”

“You know how we feel about that, Lord Virzal. Yes, I’d take the shot and risk discarnating someone by accident. I don’t believe I’d miss, but mistakes happen.”

“Indeed, mistakes happen. Our enemies sent a plague among our friends. It was a plague long known to them, with effects and treatments well known. I doubt if they expected it would have the success it did, but I don’t think they were unduly burdened with guilt that it did. You honestly wouldn’t be concerned about the inadvertent discarnation of someone, because after all they just get shuffled to the back of the deck and have another shot. Never mind that he might have a job he loves, a woman he loves beyond all others and fine children. He can always start over, after all.”

Dirzed nodded, but it was obvious he was thinking. “You are suggesting that perhaps I should give my decision more thought.”

“Things aren’t simple, not really, are they?” Lady Dallona said gently.

“How does one keep from being paralyzed with indecision?” he asked them.

“Why, you assume you’re right and go ahead. If we make mistakes, we learn from them and try again.

“Our enemies betray us,” Lord Virzal said roughly. “Men who have been our friends for years and years, who have broken bread with us, shed blood with us, standing by our sides, have, all along, been plotting our destruction and the death of everything we hold of value.

“We must fight back. You, Dirzed, are a good man, a very good man. I do not believe it is possible for you to betray someone who hasn’t betrayed you first. That is all we ask of you: loyalty to your oath, and your oath to defend those you are hired to protect.”

“I accept.”

“First, you will have some training–languages mostly. Then we will put you in a very dangerous spot with one of our enemies. I will warn you now, and again the very last thing before you go that you are _not_ under any circumstances to spy on your employer. You will have a good cover but asking one question that is out of place would see you killed.”


	9. Burning

I

A little after sunrise a call went up from the lookout on the main mast. “Smoke, Captain! It just started billowing up. It’s already pretty tall!”

In short order, they could see the pillar of smoke from the deck, and then came low rumble of thunder. Rellin looked at his First Mate and grimaced. There were clouds in the sky, but that sustained rumble, absent any rain clouds had to be cannon fire.

“What should we do, Capt’n?” the mate asked.

Rellin looked at how the sails were drawing and made a swift decision. “Tack north a half palm width, then turn back to the southeast. Tell the lookouts to be very, very careful observing. When they sail, if they sail, they will be either bored, and talking about what they’ve done, or if there was a stiff fight, they would be extra vigilant.”

Later, Rellin went up the shrouds and put the spyglass to his eyes. Rellin hadn’t wanted to tell anyone the name the High King had given this new tool–intelligencers usually got short shrift. He told the lookout it was one of the High King’s far-seeing devices.

There was nothing to see but smoke billows for the longest time. One thing he remembered from his boyhood in the Central Valley of Zarthan was when water is put on the fire, the smoke lightens and may even turn white. The smoke stayed very dark.

Rellin called down to the deck and they luffed, and the sails were taken in. He turned to the lookout and spoke, “Watchman, we are in great danger if another ship comes while our sails are furled. We have practiced making sail many times. It is your duty to give your brothers a warning in plenty of time. A sharp eye is needed now. Don’t waste your time looking at the smoke–trust me, my eyes will never leave it!”

He could see the other ship’s masts well, down half way to the other ship’s deck. Not moving, the sails furled, _Vengeance_ would be devilishly hard to see–unless the foreigners had a spyglass of their own. He laughed to himself. It was always much easier to see something you knew was there–but much harder if you didn’t know.

There were no further sounds of cannon fire, and about a palm width before sunset, the other ship’s sails started being set.

He called down to the deck. “Raise the main course, and no more. Tack straight away from the coast.”

He kept an eagle eye on the other ship, trying to judge the distance it was from them. The course the other ship was taking was along the coast, trending to the northwest. He had the men tack to the southeast, and just as the sun set, he came down from the shrouds.

“Do you want to go in tomorrow?” his First Mate asked.

“If those men did to the people here like they do to people everywhere, would survivors welcome a strange ship with strange men as friends? Or with a hail of gunfire?

“And as for poking our head in there to see what we can see, maybe there are intelligencers left behind, or they may come back to take prisoners. We don’t want word of a strange warship to reach hostile ears.”

The First Mate shook his head. “I’m so glad I leave all the captain stuff for you, my friend!”

Rellin looked at his friend and shrugged. “Then you won’t like what I intend! On the way home, you’ll be the captain and have to give the orders. I won’t even come up on deck when you’re working the ship. That way, when we get home, there will be two qualified captains. Countess Noia is training two more, but they aren’t likely to be ready soon. She’s too busy to do it fast, and it is best done at sea.

“Also on the way home, I want the eight bosuns to pick one junior bosun each, everyone is going to need to learn new jobs. Halfway home, you and I will choose the four best bosuns and make them trainee deck officers, and promote the four best juniors to senior.

“I haven’t told anyone yet, but now I’m telling you. King Freidal is going to give ships’ officers land grants the same as the High King. A ship’s captain is the same as a colonel, the executive officer will be treated as a major, the deck officers treated as lieutenants, senior bosuns as senior sergeants, juniors as junior sergeants and the crew will be treated as privates.”

The First Mate walked a few steps and leaned heavily against the main mast. “I would get a barony?” he whispered in awe.

“Aye, and if you were killed, your wife or eldest child would get the grant.”

“The prospect is...overwhelming.”

Rellin nodded. “Indeed it is. But first, we have to survive this voyage, and then survive the war that is surely coming. We will earn any reward given by our king.”

The mate gestured towards back towards the land. “Over there, towards the north, that looks like a major stream, Captain. While we don’t need water, fresh water would be welcomed by the crew. We could come back tomorrow...”

“And if the countess was correct? This land is inhabited by cannibals?”

Rellin’s friend laughed. “A cannibal may end my days, but not before I send a lot of them to Regwarn!”

The captain laughed as well. “Tomorrow we will return and approach the beach carefully, with just one boat, and some of the men handy with scouting on land. Be extremely cautious and take no risks whatsoever. It would be a catastrophe if someone was captured!”

The First Mate nodded. “And we’ll have double lookouts up, in case the traitors return.”

II

A column of twenty cavalry came up to where Gryllos and his men were standing at the top of the cliff, and their officer saluted the major. The two ships still burned, although the flames were dying down, and the newcomers stared in shock.

“We did not fire on them until they took your town under fire,” Major Gryllos said, a little pompously. “Then, we destroyed them. There was a man to our north who tried to signal them our position. He’s dead; my men should recover the body shortly. More of my men are below, rounding up prisoners from the ships.”

“I will assist them,” the lieutenant who led the column said.

“We honor Oath to Galzar. Those that pray to strange gods, we treat them with respect–we use double guards armed with shotguns.”

There were nasty laughs from the men close to the major.

“My men have only pistols. What can we...”

From below came a slam of shots; more shots than Jako had ever heard except at the rifle pits. Then came another slam of shots, then a third volley, much weaker than the first pair. Then there was the thunder of many pistol shots.

Major Gryllos yelled, “Legs and carriers–shotguns! Obey me! Flares now!”

Jako hated his impotence and ground his teeth in frustration. Major Gryllos patted him on the arm. “I never go into a battle without four pistols and my rifle. Kill some of them!” He pressed a rifle into Jako’s hands, along with an R bandolier.

The first flare rounds were descending, revealing a shoal of small boats, that evidently had carried an attack force. Jako could see a man, with a sword, waving men forward. He laughed and killed him. No one in the Heavy Weapons Company bothered with a sword.

Another man, younger than the other, ran up to his officer and tried to lift the sword. Jako sent him to guest with his ancestors before he had time to get the sword vertical. Six shots, he thought. Five or six shots, he remembered. Except in the heat of battle, you weren’t to fill all your rifle or pistol chambers.

He saw two men running forward and killed one, the second was jerking and writhing in pain a moment later, hit by a half dozen shotguns. For the first time Jako saw some of the men of the Heavy Weapons Company. They hid in dark places. They would fire and then move. It was devastating.

He saw a movement further out to sea, and saw a larger boat than any of the others rowing away from the beach. Two men sat in the back, while four rowed.

It was dark, but not that dark. He aimed at the one he thought looked most important–he sat up straight–and killed him with a single shot to the chest. The man next to him didn’t hesitate, but slid into the sea, hiding behind the boat.

Six shots! The major didn’t have an empty chamber! One of the rowers tumbled backwards, and Jako hurriedly thumbed more shells into the rifle. He still couldn’t see the one man, but the three others were rowing hard. He fired three times and they also went down. Still, the boat was moving steadily away from the shore, just not as fast. A wisp of fog got in the way, then the flare that had been lighting the boat guttered out and the boat vanished into the night.

He had been the only one shooting at the end, the beach was quiet. “More flares!” the major called and two more flares appeared. The two ships no longer provided much light and Jako scanned the ocean for heads. He didn’t see any, but between the waves, the growing fog and the erratic light from the flare it was hard to be sure.

He turned to the major. “Thank you, sir!”

“Thank you! Did you do any good?”

Jako didn’t understand at first. “Nine shots, nine hits, at least three officers,” he told the major. “Can you imagine it? One of them was waving his sword!”

A man came running up to the major and saluted. “Lieutenant Menardes’ compliments, Major. We were attacked by about two hundred men from seaward. We saw them in plenty of time to get set. We cleaned them right out, sir!”

“Casualties?”

“They never got off a solid volley. After we got done with the shotguns, the fight had pretty much gone out of them. Private Osanium has a sprained wrist, sir. He tripped on a log in the dark. That’s it, sir. Major, Lieutenant Menardes said you’d want to know that one of their officers brought his sword to a gunfight.”

“That was reported already; tell him well done. Are there any prisoners?”

“About twenty from the attack; they’re all wounded, but a couple of them not severely. We’ve only found a few who made it ashore from the ships. We can’t understand a word any of them say.”

The Zarthani lieutenant waved at the guttering embers that had once been two proud ships. “You can’t swim in this water, Major, it’s too cold. The cold sucks the warmth right out of your body, in a matter of a few finger widths you can’t move. Swim three quarters of a mile,” he shook his head. “That’s nearly impossible.”

“I think one of their officers escaped in a boat. I drove him into the water, so maybe he’ll die. But the boat was moving steadily south when the flare went out,” Jako reported.

“The current runs south along the coast here,” the lieutenant offered. “How long did you watch?”

“Just a finger width. I killed one of the two men in the back of the boat and the other didn’t hesitate, he went right in. The rowers were all big men, and stayed to the end.”

“How far away, Jako?” the major asked.

“Five hundred, maybe five fifty yards at the end.”

“And you killed five aboard the boat?”

“Yes, sir. The four on the beach were much easier shots.”

The major turned to the Zarthani officer. “Tell your commander, that Jako is our newest recruit, and he killed nine men by himself, not that he was alone on the field! Two hundred men and two large ships attacked my column. All died or were captured. I hope the damage to the village wasn’t great.”

“A couple of balls hit a large warehouse; there was considerable damage. None of our people were hurt either.”

“Then a good day for King Freidal! Inform your commander.” The major saluted the lieutenant who turned to his men around and rode back to the town.

“I’d gave a day’s pay to see his boss’ face at the telling of that tale!” Major Gryllos said to no one in particular.

Roric came at a trot with his men. “The spy is dead, sir. He jumped headfirst. Maybe someone can recognize the clothes, but I doubt it. There was no face. The party I sent down went carefully along the beach and after they joined with Lieutenant Menardes.”

“Good, good. Take another twenty men down to the beach. Horse holders and the like. Shotguns and pistols.”

“And Recruit Jako?” Roric said, nodding in Jako’s direction.

“Is still under the care of the priests. And it’s Private Jako now. You can have him back in the morning on the priests say-so.”

“Sir!” Roric said, saluted and hurried off, calling more men to him.

“Lieutenant Remus! Rally the gunners, see that each tube has the regulation number of ready rounds, then post a man at each tube as gunner. Put what’s left out as pickets, two on the cliff, the rest towards town.”

“Yes, sir!”

“You, Jako, visit the jakes and then return to your tent,” Gryllos commanded.

“Yes, sir!” he saluted and he too left.

When Jako got back to the tent, Jumper was there. “At least you can shoot better than most Ruthani even if you have a little trouble holding your water.”

“And Major Gryllos said that no one in the company would make fun of me for that.”

“We are Ruthani, we are barbarians, you understand?” he laughed and the young man was gone as well.

III

“Countess,” Lydia said at Judy’s office door.

Judy grimaced. The only time Lydia was normally formal with her was public occasions...or when she was pulling Judy’s leg. She didn’t think either applied just now.

“Lady Lydia,” Judy responded.

“I have taken the liberty of inviting your husband, Count Gamelin and his liegeman, Baron Vosper, to the council chamber of Tecpan, for an important meeting.”

Judy nodded. “When?”

“Now, my countess.”

Judy stood up. “And who will attend beside those of us from Tecpan?”

“Sergeant Leem and Corporal Huertic of the Seals. Prince Cambon of the Olmecha.”

Judy waved for Lydia to proceed them down the steps. Her guards followed obediently. There were a half dozen guards from the Special Intelligence Unit outside the council chamber. Judy turned to her own guards. “Wait here.”

She entered the council chamber and everyone present stood.

“Sit, people!” she told them. Her husband was the last to sit, but sit he did before she sat down.

“Lady Lydia has a report,” she said levelly.

“The report is Sergeant Leem and Corporal Heurtic’s,” Lydia announced. “They are both Seals.”

“What, pray tell, is a Seal, Countess?” General Cambon asked.

Sergeant Leem stood. “Lord, we are scouts of the sea and land. Seals are known to Countess Judy and your king. Corporal Heurtic came to us from your brother, Prince. It is his report we are to hear. We have already reported to the Duke of Mexico and he commanded us to come here.”

Huertic gave the report, short on the personal details.

“And what is it that the Duke of Mexico wishes from us?” Cambon asked.

Leem stood once again. “Lord, the duke is famous for asking the seeming impossible from his men. He attacked the camp of his enemies, numbering more than fifteen thousand with just thirty men. He killed more than a thousand of his enemies. He attacked a column of a thousand, with only a hundred. The thousand reeled back in defeat, the third who survived.

“The duke struck southwards and did as no man had done before: conquered a city of the God-King, with less than a third as many men as the defenders had. His people slaughtered all but two hundred of the God-King’s soldiers.

“Then he attacked even further south, wiping out an army three times as size and losing a handful of men while killing every last soldier who had come against him.

“I submit to you all, that the Duke of Mexico is Dralm-sent and Galzar-taught.

“The Duke of Mexico and Countess Judy stretched out their hands and succored the survivors of the Olmecha, regardless of their self-interest. Every step of the way, Duke Tuck and Lady Judy have done the impossible, and when they couldn’t do that, then they helped their enemies as if they were friends,” Leem finished.

“The Olmecha stand forever in their debt for that succor. We are not used to the High King’s ways, the Duke Tuck’s ways and above all, Countess Judy’s ways,” Cambon said.

Leem nodded. “As before, the duke asks the impossible. He would like half of the army of the Olmecha to march northwest, into the lands of the Zarthani. You, Prince Cambon, and you, Count Gamelin, he would like you to ride like the wind, first to South Bay, and perhaps eventually Baytown, telling King Freidal that we will divide your army in portions, a third going just north of South March, half to just north of South Port and the remainder to reinforce Count Quillan’s troops south of Baytown.

“The men of Becal are going to attack Zarthan with at least five hundred ships each carrying four hundred soldiers. They must be heavily counter-attacked when they come ashore. The Zarthani coastline is too long to defend it all. I will give Prince Cambon and Count Gamelin war plans devised by Duke Tuck that will enable Zarthan to meet the attack with equal or greater numbers, wherever they come ashore.”

Cambon turned to Judy. “Indeed, I would say that was impossible. I’ve never fought the duke, but I did fight you, Countess. I couldn’t beat you, his student. My master couldn’t beat either of you as well.

“Countess, can I count on your signalers if the Zarthani aren’t receptive to a two-thirds of a million Olmechan soldiers in their lands?” Cambon asked.

“Agreed!” Judy said without hesitation.

“Am I just an errand boy, Lady wife?” Gamelin grumped.

Cambon laughed. “Getting the Zarthani to allow Olmechan soldiers to penetrate King Freidal’s lands anywhere close to Baytown, will be the greatest diplomatic coup of all time! We will have to talk fast, loud, and long to so much as survive.”

“We can’t send a message through the signal chain about this,” Judy mused. “Even coded, our enemies could read them. No, dearest husband, this requires the senior-most person we can send. Moreover, you know Elspeth and that will help.”

“You could go...” Gamelin said.

“We are talking about defending against two hundred thousand soldiers hurled into an unprepared Zarthan. That leaves more than a million behind. This could be an elaborate ruse to lead our forces astray.”

Judy turned to Leem. “Will we know when they sail?”

“I believe so, Countess. Five hundred ships in company? That will occupy miles of the Great Western Ocean. At least ten miles on a side. My men had previously scouted the peninsula west of here and it is almost entirely uninhabited and there are no soldiers that we know of on it. The Ruthani scouted it,” Leem told the others.

“I am not of the sea myself,” Judy told him. “But if I were going to round the peninsula I’d have men ashore to build bonfires to keep my ships off the rocks. Your Seals would have to be very careful.”

Leem laughed low. “I suppose you will tell the duke, but we have had a great many graduation exercises. More than fifty. To my knowledge we have never been discovered.”

Judy laughed as well. “One of the first things I learned as a countess–if it isn’t broken, it doesn’t need fixing.”

Cambon stood and bowed to Judy. “Countess, you earned my respect in a dusty village, when you walked out to face my troops with just a sergeant at your side. Since then...” his voice trailed away. “My regard has only grown. I will be happy to travel to Baytown and speak to King Freidal.”

Judy smiled. “You’re in luck, he’s in South Port just now.”

IV

Gamelin and Cambon were alone, two nameless men on the road to South Port, stopped at a waterhole. They were both horsemen and were sparing of the water for their horses. Cambon kept his own stallion some distance from Gamelin’s Hellfire. Still, they stretched out side-by-side on the sand not far from the waterhole.

The two men were silent for some time before Cambon turned to Gamelin. “You think you are being ill-used.”

“My wife plots with people against me.”

Cambon laughed easily.

“That is not so, Count. She plots against the enemies of Tecpan, the High King, the Olmecha, and the Zarthani. You are alive, Count. In my army, you’d be dead now, for telling our enemies secrets of the realm. That you are alive is a tribute to your wife’s regard for you.”

“At least you’re honest,” Gamelin said, his voice nearly dead.

“Count, I have never lied to you. You are an honorable man, who has lost his confidence. Tell me, Count: your horse is famous throughout Mexico. Has he ever thrown you?”

“A few times,” Gamelin admitted reluctantly.

“And yet, here you are, still with him. I know what I do when I get thrown: stand up, kick the damn beast and then climb on his back and work him for many palm widths. What do you do?”

“Get back on him and ride like the wind,” Gamelin said.

“Count, meaning no disrespect, but you have fallen from your horse. Get back on him, or take up riding in coaches.”

Gamelin faced Cambon. “Are you interested in my wife?”

The prince laughed. “Lady Lydia is as good as the Countess at setting and catching spies and keeping secrets. Do you know why I was in Tecpan?”

“For the meeting!”

Cambon chuckled. “Lord Count, I was visiting my wife.”

“Your wife? I thought only Lady Maya was married of the three of you.”

“If people knew I had a wife, she’d be an instant target. If they learn that she is pregnant, she would be dead in a moon. My wife lives in Tecpan.”

Gamelin cocked his head to one side. “There is a horse coming, just one. It is moving very fast.”

Both men pulled shotguns from their scabbards and hid. Vosper came up on a running horse and slid off at the waterhole. “You two left without me,” the former sergeant told them, his mild voice belying his anger.

“We were in a hurry, Baron,” Gamelin told his liegeman.

“No doubt. Your wife wanted me to bring you your boots, the boots that were a present from the High King. She wanted to be sure that you wear them in front of King Freidal.”

“And why would she want that, Baron?” Cambon asked.

“She was hoping you could wear them in King Freidal’s stable yard and decorate them as you did for the High King,” the former sergeant said cheerfully.

“Your wore a gift from the High King through a stable yard?” Cambon said with a laugh. “You must be a very brave man!”

“I forgot,” Gamelin mumbled. “They are my favorites and I forgot.”

Vosper nodded. “I think we should get going.”

“You’re not tired, Baron?” Cambon queried.

“The countess reminded me of the importance of speed. And here you two layabouts are taking your leisure,” the former sergeant said.

A finger width later they were on the road again.

V

Gamelin presented himself to one of the guards at the royal palace in South Port. “I heard that the king and queen were here and not in Baytown. We are here to see them.”

“Your business?” the guard said gruffly.

“I’m a friend of the queen, from Hostigos. Count Gamelin of the Trygath. With me are two emissaries from Lady Judy, Countess of Tecpan.”

“Wait here,” the guard told them.

It was a short wait and a tall, thin man appeared. He was about Gamelin’s age, blonde and blue-eyed, but his back was straight and he had an air of command about him.

The man looked at the trio of newcomers and snorted. The guards came ready, but the man growled a command to stand down.

“We met once before, Count Gamelin. I recognize your man, but not the Mexicotál at your side.”

“You met my brother at Three Hills, General Denethon,” Cambon replied.

“There were a quarter of a million men of the God-King at Three Hills.”

“My brother commanded the God-King’s artillery.”

“And how is your brother these days? I understand that he and Lord Gamelin share the same hair color?”

“He is well. We are here to talk to your king.”

“Well, I can promise that! Please, come in.”

The guard spoke up. “I must take their weapons, Lord.”

General Denethon grinned. “I’ll do it. I owe Lord Gamelin, whose wife once took mine.”

The weapons were handed over and the party was escorted into the palace. 

A man and woman were standing to greet them. The woman strode forward, heedless of protocol. “Gamelin! How is Judy?”

“She is well, Elspeth. We are here on a urgent mission.”

“Vosper I know. They say your other companion is a Mexicotál.”

“I am Olmechan, Queen Elspeth.”

“I suppose the distinction is important,” Elspeth said and Cambon nodded. 

Freidal spoke, “And what is the urgent mission, Lord Gamelin?”

“Lord King, it is for your ears only, and those you have the utmost trust in.”

“I rather figured, Lord Gamelin. I have never met you or your wife, but she’s been described to me, rather often, by my lady wife.” Freidal made a motion and his sister appeared. “This is my sister Alros, who is General Denethon’s wife. Other than her, we are alone.”

Cambon bowed. “My older brother is Xyl, King of the Olmecha. I am General Cambon.”

“And what brings you to South Port, General?”

“Information has come to the Duke of Mexico that the men of Becal–the remnants of the priests of the God-King and some of those of foul Styphon–are preparing to strike somewhere from the sea.

“They have sea-born transports that can carry two hundred thousand soldiers at a time. My brother’s capital is in Zacateca...very far from the ocean. My brother commands more than a million and a half soldiers there. It is unlikely such a force can reach there and there is no way to approach by sea. Lord Tuck, Duke of Mexico, has a hundred thousand soldiers at Xipototec, and Xipototec is close enough to march to, and not need sea transports. Countess Judy has fifty thousand more who could come in time to their aid.

“No, the duke believes those two hundred thousand soldiers are coming here. Perhaps not here, here, but to Zarthan.”

“My army is a hundred thousand strong, and the various counties have a quarter million militia,” Freidal told him.

Cambon bobbed his head. “King, that is true, but you have a very long coastline, where they can attack at any point. Yes, you could assemble your forces and meet them and defeat them...if you knew where they would attack. All we know is that they are coming, but we don’t know where.”

“Queen Elspeth, Countess Judy’s brother is what she calls a ‘Marine.’ A soldier of the sea,” Cambon went on.

Elspeth nodded. “They are supposed to be very tough fighters.”

“Some of the Ruthani and some of the Mexicotál have banded together to form ‘Marines.’ They are the ones who alerted us of the danger. Tanda Havra’s brother leads them and they will alert us when the Becal fleet sails,” Gamelin said. “My wife will send a message ‘I have something even better than a rocking chair for you.’ That means they come.”

“That rocking chair is the most popular import from Mexico. Women love them. _I_ love mine,” Elspeth said.

Freidal turned to Cambon. “And why are you here, General?”

“My brother has asked me to ask you for your permission to march some of our soldiers to your assistance. Two thirds of a million, roughly a third of our army. A third to go just north of South March, a third just north of South Port and a third south of Baytown. They will hold short of the coast a few miles, near road junctions. When the men of Becal come, our soldiers would hit them hard. We owe them,” Cambon’s voice dropped to a soft whisper, “a very great debt.”

“And why on earth would you help us?” Freidal asked.

“Not so long ago, Zarthan allied with the God-King and Styphon to attack Hostigos. As you know, Foul Styphon plotted against all of us. I submit, that my people were good allies, and kept that alliance even when it’s betrayal would have made more sense.

“Then, there is Countess Judy and Duke Tuck. Above all, the Countess Judy. I could have reached out my hand and destroyed her, but my brother, the king, had commanded otherwise. King Freidal, I was grasping at straws, frantically trying not to drown in you-know-what.

“She succored us, king, in our mortal peril. She didn’t have to, and none would have said she should have helped us.

“Duke Tuck came to our aid as well. Three in four of those who fled to Tecpan survived, and near nine of ten survived at Xipototec. And those numbers pale before those of our army before Zimapan. One in a hundred died, King Freidal! One in a hundred! No one has ever done such a thing for us before, in our history!

“Our soldiers will be eager to join such stalwart allies! All know we abandoned the alliance first.

“I realize it is an unthinkable thing to allow two-thirds of a million of our soldiers to pass through your lands. But the destruction the men of Becal could wreck on your lands is immense.”

“And what would you expect as payment?” Freidal asked.

“Payment, King? We repay debts of honor! It was we that abandoned our alliance with you! We might never have acted against you, but we certainly stopped acting in concert!

“The debt we owe Countess Judy and Duke Tuck can’t be measured!

“We no longer have the transport to supply our troops this far afield. We would need food and fodder. So we have asked Countess Judy and Duke Tuck and they have promised wagons so that we can bring three to one to repay our consumption.”

Gamelin spoke up. “King Freidal, there is something else. Why we wish to bring so many soldiers up to face the invasion. Our Marines have been spying on the men of Becal. We believe they have purchased weapons from the same sort of foreign sources that supplied the plague to us, and succored the men of Becal against the plague.

“Duke Tuck warns that they may have fireseed weapons that fire dozens of bullets at a time, cannon that shoot for many miles and other things. We have captured devices that allow the men of Becal to see at night as well as we see in daylight. General Cambon, in a recent battle, captured a hundred mortars, and those, our mortarmen say, are better than the High King’s. Duke Tuck will send sergeants with the Olmechan troops to teach them how to fight these weapons.”

“The reports say that there are a million soldiers or more, loyal to Becal,” Freidal told Gamelin. “How will the duke protect himself?”

“Lord King,” Gamelin replied, “if the remaining troops move against Xipototec, the people of Xipototec will give up their town and retreat to Tecpan. As soon as the duke knows where the men of Becal are bound, he will send for Grand Marshal Hestophes’ half million soldiers, my King Xyl’s two-thirds of a million and we will face them at Tecpan with more than a million and a half men.”

“You would give up a duchy town?” Freidal asked.

Gamelin nodded. “In a heartbeat, Lord King. Everyone knows that the men of Becal still send sacrifices up the pyramids. Those that don’t climb the pyramids at once would be slaves, certain of their eventual fate. All know Countess Judy will defend her people to her dying breath. What Tanda Havra will do to our enemies, no man can imagine. Duke Tuck has never been defeated in the field. If there are trials and tribulations our people are prepared for it. If Xipototec must be rebuilt, they are prepared for that too. Going against Tecpan means an army will face one and a half million defenders led by Grand Marshal Hestophes, Duke Tuck and Countess Judy. They will hold, Lord King.”

King Freidal shook his head. “How can I explain to my people letting troops from south of the border into our lands?”

“Husband, evidently you weren’t paying enough attention to the lessons that Count Errock and Duke Tuck taught to you,” Queen Elspeth said drily.

“My King, I have fought the duke; I have fought Hestophes,“ Denethon said. “I could outrun Hestophes. My army was shattered the instant Duke Tuck fired on us, and when we faced them for the last time, my soldiers were only too happy to surrender, even though we were five to their one. Tell me, General Cambon, do you have mortars?”

“Not many, and we have enough ammunition for one battle. We captured some with the help of Countess Judy,” Cambon responded.

“I understand that Major Gryllos is here with some mortars as well,” Vosper said, speaking for the first time.

“He is in the north; we dare not move them further south. He has already fought a battle against ships,” Denethon reported. Denethon grinned then. “Legios was a wizard with his mortars. Evidently his replacement is as good.”

“And his soldiers?” Gamelin asked.

Denethon laughed. “They had a rough time on the sea voyage to North Port. That was before the battle. They got their land-legs in quick time and as all the High King’s mortar soldiers, they are uncommonly effective, and as yet they have not suffered any casualties.”

“We had not heard that they’ve seen action as yet,” Gamelin told King Freidal.

“The message just came south and was passed earlier today to Xipototec and Tecpan.”

King Freidal shrugged. “I am still trying to figure how I’m going to tell my people that more than a half million Mexicotál are marching to our aid.“

Cambon nodded. “Lord Tuck told me that a leader of an allied people described how an enemy prepared for a seaborne assault. This leader said their enemies built a spiderweb of communications, but they had forgotten the spider. His king invaded in the first summer moon, and took their enemy’s surrender before the next first summer moon. What the duke was saying, when their enemies learned just where the force had landed they didn’t have sufficient forces to throw the invaders back into the sea. Our troops would be the ones to meet the Becal invaders and set about throwing them back into the sea. Your troops and more of ours would be close enough to add support in the moon quarters following their attack. Whatever weapons they have, our soldiers will have more fireseed and other supplies and a faster resupply.

“We have your kingdom, your Highness, to draw upon. You can stage weapons and supplies as well as men. Trust me, Lord King, our soldiers will fling themselves on the men of Becal as if our soldiers were veritable demons! The men of Becal killed two hundred million of our brothers and sisters. Our children! Our children!” Cambon’s voice rose shrilly.

“We will cast them down! We will kill them all! We will pray that they send more troops into the maw of battle! We will kill them too!”

The raw emotion in Cambon’s voice was poignant.

“Still, General, you are asking us to trust you a great deal,” Freidal told him.

“Duke Tuck told me that you would worry about that. My king has told me that he would be content to let General Denethon lead one of the columns, and the core of that column would be Three Hills veterans. General Denethon brought two of five his soldiers home alive. You’ve undoubtedly have heard what they faced.”

“I have,” Freidal admitted. “But the other two columns?”

“Another column would be led by Count Quillan. All know Count Quillan is a hard man, but fair. He kept many of our soldiers safe from the whims of Styphon. They could have their own staffs and guards.”

Cambon looked at Freidal pleadingly. “We were fools, Lord King. Abject fools! The gods have turned their faces from us, but we have new gods these days. Galzar Wolf’s Head, your soldier god and Dralm, the All Father, who succored our people at their need, heedless of their own safety, and their own lives. Xyl feels that this is a chance for us to start making amends for tens of centuries of wicked behavior.”

“And the third column? Who would lead that?” Freidal asked.

“Any of your generals that you wish. I haven’t discussed with him, but Count Gamelin would be acceptable. He beat General Denethon once.”

“You would turn your soldiers over to foreign officers?” Freidal sounded surprised.

“Admittedly, only to proven officers, King Freidal. Our soldiers have gotten used to winning their battles. I have no desire to disabuse them.”

Elspeth laughed. “Against the men of Becal, we have no more desire to lose than you. We are here in South Port because the plague is here. Both of us have had it. Our son is being fostered with Count Echanistra for the coming winter.”

Gamelin frowned. “Lady Elspeth, it is still spring.”

The glance she gave him quelled anything else he might have said.

“What do you say, Lord King?” Cambon pressed.

“I assume you have a code word to send if yes or no.

“Yes. Send the word for yes. I’ll send a courier to the Mud River ferries. The troops may not cross the river without further permission, but we will discuss this and give you an answer shortly.”

Cambon nodded. “There is a code word for that as well, King Freidal. My brother did not expect you to agree without consulting others, but he wanted to get the troops moving. We will move our entire army west, to south of Xipototec, then they will split up. A feint at Becal that will hopefully convince them not to launch an attack just yet. There is a nearly full moon; our soldiers will advance to the Mud River at a run. Three days later they will need a day of rest–they can use it to get on the other side of the river. Three days later they will be in position north of South March. The middle group will be in place a day and a half later. The last group five days later.”

“And the commanders of the groups?” Freidal inquired.

“As I said, we plan on General Denethon at South March, Lord Gamelin and Count Quillan with the northern groups. Sir, you and the queen should withdraw some distance from the coast.”

“Alros will accompany her husband into the field. Elspeth and I will go go north to the Central Valley and stay there until we’re opposite Baytown at River City. There we will await the results, rallying our forces if you don’t win.”

Cambon sighed. “My brother fought the Hostigi at five to one twice. He lost both times. General Denethon fought Lord Gamelin at eight to one, and his army broke at the first volley. I believe my troops will do better, but it would be better to plan for their lack of success.”

Freidal stood, drawing his blade in an elaborate flourish and salute to Cambon. “I’ve fought Duke Tuck at odds that seem fantastic. Without success.” The blade went back into its scabbard. “Yes.”

Cambon turned to Baron Vosper. “Please, Baron send the response.”

Vosper saluted him and bowed to King Freidal. “By your leave, sir.”

“Go!”

In a few finger widths Vosper was back. He bowed once again to Freidal. “Periodically, at least once a moon, we practice sending night messages through the chain. Everyone is familiar with the schedule, so all the stations are awake and alert. That message will be in Xipototec before dawn, Tecpan and Zacateca before halfway to High Sun, Zimapan by High Sun and Xiphlon before sunset and the High King will read it before morning of the next day.” Vosper shrugged. “He will have no idea what it says, just the Duke, Countess Judy, King Xyl, and probably Grand Marshal Hestophes.”

“Probably?” Freidal asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It was doubtful if the couriers could reach either Hestophes, much less the High King before we reached you, King. This has been very quickly planned. Duke Tuck tells me that in the next few days we should make better plans–specific plans–for the possibilities.”

Freidal nodded. “We can do that. I need to send a message to Count Quillan.”

He gestured for a servant who came running up. Freidal wrote a long message and handed it to his queen. “Your special code, El.”

She looked at the front and back of a large piece of paper. “A palm width, Frei.”

The king grimaced. “Give the message to Captain Landsruhl. Have him send it from the top of the Long Pass. Then he can return.”

“Yes, Frei.”

The queen bustled off.


	10. Thinking About the Unthinkable

I

Xitki Quillan was just getting up from breakfast when his seneschal came in and handed him a message. “Lord, this is the first part of what appears to be a long message in the Queen’s code.”

Quillan grimaced at the length and the fact that it was the first of four parts was going to a serious trial of his patience and skill. “Bring the other parts to me as quick as you can, once each is received.”

He retired to his private chambers and pulled a volume from his shelf and started the laborious translation, matching pages and words. He had all four parts in hand before he finished decoding the first part, but what he’d read made him eager to finish. When he was half finished, he buried his work under some other papers, reshelved the volume and called his seneschal again.

“Send the word ‘yes’ four times in the clear. Not three times, not five times, but four times,” he told the man. When his servant left, he was back to his decoding mission. When he finished he read the whole message at once, then stood, rubbing his back.

“I’m getting too old,” he thought to himself. “If not this time, then the next time I’m going to make a mistake.” He sniffed in derision at himself. The kingdom would crash if he made another mistake like attacking the High King and Count Errock, not to mention Duke Tuck!

But fighting alongside such men! Denethon, the pupil that outshone his master! Gamelin! Sure, Gamelin might have lost a step when he’d been afflicted with the plague, but there was nothing like two hundred thousand screaming Mexicotál soldiers coming at you to stiffen your courage!

General Cambon! He’d met him once before the war and had wished Cambon was going to command the God-King’s troops going with the western column. The man was very sharp. He’d made a truce with Countess Judy, learned how to treat the plague, and had as a result come away with nine-tenths of the God-King’s army after nine of ten of the remaining Mexicotál had died. Xitki Quillan had no doubt of the loyalty of King Xyl and his soldiers. Two hundred million of their fellow countrymen had been killed by a plot so foul that true men spewed when they heard of such treachery!

And Count Alcibydos of North Port had provided another example, one for Zarthan, one that showed what “nine of ten” meant. He’d shut his people inside the town walls, then detonated tons of fireseed and burned the rest of the town, leaving a smoking ruin behind.

Yes, the southern counts would have some trouble with their people, but he wouldn’t have nearly as much. It had been fifteen centuries since a Mexicotál raid had reached even the southern edge of the Central Valley and his ancestors had crushed those so foolish.

A little later, he went back to his presence chamber and met his seneschal. “Any further orders, Lord Count?” his man asked.

“Our King fears his soldiers are getting fat and lazy with garrison duty. Our Queen reminded him that hunting and cold camps toughen good soldiers and reveal the fat, lazy ones so that they can be replaced. Have General Raimonde and General Transic report to me a palm width after cock’s crow tomorrow. Tell them they will be a while.” Quillan grinned and laughed. “Better not to tell the generals about going camping either.”

The seneschal, a veteran sergeant who’d accompanied Count Quillan against Outpost, and had a great deal experience in camping, laughed that laugh old sergeants have as they contemplate exposing green troops to hardship for the first time.

*** ** ***

Early the next morning, Quillan waited for his generals, next to a covered easel. The soldiers of Zarthan had had a salutatory lesson in the importance of maps in the last war and knew what they were.

Quillan started with the same preface he’d started with his seneschal. “The king wants a turn out of our first line troops in an exercise. This is for all the counts to participate. You will each march to locations I’ve picked, then post pickets along the longest line you can maintain.”

Quillan revealed the first map, the central coast of Zarthan. “The Royal Army will be positioned to defend Baytown, South Port and South March. Our militia here are responsible for defending the coastline from west of South Port to just south of Baytown.”

He looked at them. “General Raimonde, you will command from here to here.” Quillan drew the line. “You will have twenty thousand men. You will deploy them as light skirmishers in sections of twenty-five or so, every quarter mile along the beaches. You do not have to picket cliffs with no easy way up from the beach.”

“And what will we be defending against?” the general asked.

“We know the priests of the God-King and the remnants of foul Styphon have joined together south of Duke Tuck’s lands, near Becal. We knew the God-King was assembling transport ships there–the best guess of the intelligencers is that they have five hundred ships that can carry a total of two hundred thousand men at a time. So, expect an attack of two hundred thousand light infantry, with little artillery or cavalry, to attack anyplace along the lines that you and General Transic form.”

“They would be stupid to do that!” General Raimonde said. “Those attackers would be killed!”

“Tell me General Raimonde, how would you defend against two hundred thousand men with your twenty thousand?”

“I would call for help, then fall back as skirmishers! Trading space for time. What would they eat? They would only have limited ammunition! After one sharp engagement, they would run low on fireseed! Then they would run out of food! With no artillery and no cavalry they could be plucked like grapes from a vine!”

“Assume they have light artillery–mortars. Assume they have repeating fireseed weapons like the High King has, but we still have few of. Assume the plan is the throw the lives of their soldiers away, trying to cut their way as far inland as they can go. Suppose they steal food and supplies. They might penetrate much further than we expect. These are the Gods-King’s soldiers. They can run fairly fast when they advance.”

“The High King routinely beat the God-King’s soldiers at odds of five to one against him. Fighting for our lands? Our soldiers will fight the same way!” the general remonstrated.

Count Quillan drew the positions General Transic was to cover. “My men will defend the beaches with their lives!” the general said.

That drew a sharp rebuke from Quillan. “The High King and Duke Tuck’s philosophy of war is to make the men of the other side die for their king, not their men! We have spent more than a year training your men to fight as skirmishers, to delay an enemy until we can bring up our main force with cavalry and artillery and crush an enemy utterly. In the exceedingly unlikely event that you face such an enemy, you will do as we trained. Your men will retreat as skirmishers, signaling for help until you get further instructions. But rest assured that those instructions will not be that you are to stand and hold regardless of losses.

“This gentlemen, is an exercise by his majesty, the king. The king has this belief that cold camps and field rations are the measure of a man. Expect to be in the field a moon. That will mean you can rotate the pickets once a moon quarter if you want, but it would be better, I’m thinking, to leave the same men on the picket line. It’s only a moon, after all. Cold camps for the beach pickets and for your main body. Your sergeants are to note the biggest complainers and the troublemakers.

“Afterwards, you will be able to go over your rosters and replace the weak reeds with different men, the best we have available. Expect this sort of exercise once a year from now on.”

It wasn’t as though the two generals breathed a sigh of relief on hearing this was an exercise, but the tension that had grown had been palpable.

“Count Quillan, will we have artillery and cavalry?” General Transic asked.

“We do not have many mortars, and we are still learning to use them. On the other hand, Duke Tuck taught his mortarmen in a moon quarter. We have some, and those will be distributed to each of you. Training will come from a few sergeants and corporals who have been on the receiving end of training. Regular artillery would be just gifts to the enemy–they move slower than desert turtles.

“As for cavalry they are too slow in sand and the sand from many beaches extends back for a mile or more. Get your cavalry bogged down in sand once and you likely won’t have any cavalry,” Quillan informed then.

“Now, another task that the king has commanded. Spring planting is done, and there is a period where the cultivation of the fields will be at a minimum. The king wants to call up the first militia class for the moon the exercise will last. That will be a hundred thousand men, who will be drilled for that moon. Do we give that duty to Colonel Lamanstohnes or Colonel Bachdorf?”

It took only a few heartbeats for the two generals to agree on Colonel Lamanstohnes. “He’s the better man by far,” General Transic averred.

“Good, I’ll have something else for Colonel Lamanstohnes. We need to find out if Colonel Bachdorf is capable of bigger things.”

There were wry grins on the two generals faces: they too had had to measure up to Count Quillan’s expectations.

“You two get your troops moving by this time tomorrow. I imagine you have things you could be doing.” With that, the two generals were out the door.

Quillan waved at his seneschal. “I’ll see Colonel Bachdorf next.”

When the colonel reported, he saluted in the new fashion and Count Quillan returned it.

The count was blunt. “The king has ordered a field exercise for our troops, all of those available. In addition, he has ordered a call up of the first class of the reserves. That should be a hundred thousand men. You may make use of the reserve staff here in River City to get them assembled and organized. Units that report in together may serve together; gather those not in groups and you will form them up in ad hoc units.

“You are authorized to form a camp south of the city. You are in charge of all the quartering and logistics of those assembling. Rely on the reserve staff for that; they have practiced long and hard at this and should be able to guide you in what you need to do.

“All men should come with their field equipment, but they never do. Each man is to have a rifle and pistol; issue weapons to any who don’t have them. There may be some resentment at the fact that the issue weapons are all the old rifles and pistols. They are reserves and they are supposed to have their equipment. They were issued cartridge rifles and pistols and they were supposed to care for them.

“The soldiers are to fire their weapons to practice for a half day, every one of them. Then they will be tested by their sergeants and those who are not up to it, set down in a ‘goat regiment.’ When they pass their marksmanship requirements they can return to the original units. If, after a moon quarter they have yet to pass collect their weapons and shave all their hair off. That includes beards and mustaches.

“Soldiers who pass marksmanship will run a full palm width during the day, broken into a least two parts and a matching palm width of physical drill. They will have marching drill each day for a palm width and a palm width at the rifle butts. They will have four palm widths a day of classes in tactics with emphasis on their role as skirmish troops and scouts. Each man will serve a four palm width guard tour at least every fourth day. At least once a moon quarter divisions shall make a forced march, out and back, that lasts a half day out and another half day in return.

“The king says not to tell the men how long the call up is for, but I can’t envision it being longer than a moon. Don’t tell the men...let them guess. It will give them something to do in their copious free time.

“The reserve staff has been informed this morning and they will do the call ups. Ideally you should form a hundred divisions. After the first moon quarter, they should drill as divisions at least one day a moon quarter. Disarmed drills.

“Any questions?”

Colonel Bachdorf was no dummy. A hundred thousand men was more than twice the command of a general.

“I imagine my staff will know the answers, Count.”

“Then you have things to do. You are excused.”

Colonel Lamanstohnes was last. “Colonel, the king has ordered a general alert and a partial mobilization of the reserves. Soon, we will need to feed a hundred thousands militia reserves here in River City, and support forty thousand troops in the field.

“Further, the king is concerned that we know our enemies have large ships and that there has already been one raid along the coast, beaten, by Galzar, but if the High King’s mortarmen hadn’t been there, it could have been a different result.

“The king feels that there are too many places along the coast where significant food supplies are in close proximity to the coast, and could be targets for attacks. I have a list of eight counties along the coast where the king feels too much material is exposed.

“You are requested and required to move those supplies further inland. You will give the individual counts receipts for every scrap you move. The king is messaging the affected counts his apologies and promising that we will work ceaselessly to reduce the chances of such raids succeeding, or even striking. The king is training additional mortarmen and you are free to tell all the counts that mortar shells are the problem. They are difficult to make and the explosive is not fireseed and the materials have yet to be produced in quantity.”

“How far inland, Count Quillan?”

“At least twenty miles. We have a list of suitable locations for each county.

“The local counts will be responsible for the transport. If they demur or move slowly, know that a moon quarter after they receive the order if there is militarily useful supplies captured in a raid that count will go before his peers on trial for his life.

“Yes, it will mean that a complicated logistics plan will need to be put in place. You and the local count can work that out–once the supplies have been moved. You are not to talk about the call up of the militia or the field exercise of my troops with anyone at all.”

Colonel Lamanstohnes looked at Count Quillan. No fool he; the army was urgently preparing for those raids.

Count Quillan nodded. “Colonel Bachdorf is in charge of the militia. He will have a hundred thousand headaches. You will have but eight. Your headaches will dwarf Colonel Bachdorf’s.”

II

“Clesti, Count Mountain Wall, this is Count Gamelin of the Trygath, and one of his barons and his First Liegeman,” the Zarthani brigadier said, introducing the two men.

The two counts clasped arms in greeting. Count Mountain Wall looked Gamelin up and down. Mountain Wall was an imposing man, taller even than Countess Judy and weighing perhaps four hundred pounds. He had a flowing blonde beard and was approaching sixty, while Gamelin was a lean young man, a minimal beard and a shock of white hair. “Count Gamelin. I understand you fought there at that nameless fort beside the Wen-rotos River.”

Gamelin bobbed his head, “Yes, Count, I was.”

“And you were a mortar officer?”

“Indeed, sir. Not a very good one, though.”

Count Mountain Wall laughed, a huge rushing sound. “One heartbeat, I was standing up, wondering what the explosions were. Then I was lying on the ground, nearly deaf, wondering what had happened. Good enough, sir!”

Gamelin tipped his head in Vosper’s direction. “Baron Vosper, then a sergeant, it was his gun that fired the round that hit the fireseed store.”

Count Mountain Wall saluted the former sergeant. “I suppose it is disloyal of me, but that was well done!”

“Lord Count, we were firing blind. My two guns were assigned to the northern portion of your camp,” the baron replied.

Count Mountain Wall nodded to the third man in the party he had been ordered to make all haste to meet. “And the Ruthani? I’ve never talked to one before.”

Cambon smiled slightly. “You still haven’t, Count. I am Prince Cambon of the Olmecha, brother to his most excellent majesty, Xyl, King of the Olmecha, and a general in his army.”

Mountain Wall looked at the Olmechan curiously. “And what brings you so far from home?”

Gamelin interrupted. “General Limeus, who gave you your orders?”

“Count Mountain Wall, I received my orders from King Freidal himself, standing between the Queen and General Denethon, who was sided by his wife as well. I was told to bring these men to you with all haste and I was commanded to obey all their orders as if given by the king himself. I was given a letter for you, sir.” The brigadier presented a heavy letter to the count, wrapped in ornate seals.

Count Mountain Wall opened it and read the first sheet. “Freidal is an uncommonly good king, and commands me as he commanded the brigadier. He admonishes me that the rest of the message is supplemental information, but you have the meat of it, General Cambon.”

Cambon nodded. “In the recent war we waged against the High King, the God-King and your king made an alliance together that included another party, Foul Styphon. As we both learned to our sorrow, Styphon’s minions are the most foul brood that walk the land. They poisoned your king, they tried to usurp his heirs, but were mostly foiled in their plots. However, they succeeded against our Heartland.

“You may not believe it in light of subsequent events, but the God-King hewed to the terms of the alliance as long as events permitted. We never, ever, took any actions against Zarthan. The God-King himself commended General Denethon for his service in saving part of the army that had marched north against Xiphlon.

“King Xyl came to power after the God-King and his male heirs were killed by renegades from the High King’s land and our own renegades. We have never been false to the original alliance, and we did not note anything you essayed against us.

“And then Styphon struck us. A fouler blow than any previous in recorded history. They destroyed my people, Count. Utterly threw them down. For every man you lost in the war with the High King, we lost twenty thousand. And not just men, but women and children. There are not but a few thousand children left in all the valley of Mexico.

“My people cry out for vengeance! My soldiers have vowed to destroy those who caused this horror.

“There were not many bright spots in the tragedy of our loss. One of those was Countess Judy of Tecpan. She, along with the Duke of Mexico, aided us in our travail, explaining how to treat the plague. It was not in time to save very many of our common people, but we had troops besieging Zimapan and we were in time to save more than a million of our soldiers.”

“I’ve heard most of this,” Count Mountain Wall said evenly. “Including the actions of Duke Tuck and Countess Judy.”

“Yes. We found out last fall that a city on our west coast had escaped the plague. Priests of the God-King and those of False Styphon appeared and gave medicine to the people of Becal, preventing the plague. Before the catastrophe we had assembled more than a million soldiers near Becal to attack the High King’s lands. Those soldiers survived as well.”

Count Mountain Wall blinked. He had understood what was meant that Becal had prepared for the plague in advance. They had known it was coming and what was coming. “A monstrous deed, by monstrous men. There has never been a greater evil in the world than Styphon,” Count Mountain Wall swore firmly.

“Yes, Count. We had built many transport ships on our west coast. I know you must think they were aimed at you, but we know of an empire far to the south, in the highest mountains men have ever seen. I have seen your Mountain Wall, and while some of your mountains are very tall, most of the ones to the south are taller, and, as nearly as we can tell, extend twice as far as the Mountain Wall. Like the Mountain Wall, they are larded with gold and much silver. The God-King was going to war on this empire.

“The God-King was filled with greed and avarice, but he was a coward as well. The empire to the south is armed as we once were with primitive bows and simple armor so that was the direction he planned to attack.

“But all of this was in the past. The men of Becal are coming. Here. Soon. Two hundred thousand of them.”

“Where will they land?” Mountain Wall demanded.

“We have no idea. Count, my people owe Countess Judy our very existence. Yes, Duke Tuck helped, but she was the one who was willing to talk, even though she had no reason to help us. We have more than a million soldiers–she asked us for a loan of a portion our army. In all honor, how could we have said no? Even now six hundred thousand men approach the Mud River and will soon begin to cross.”

Count Mountain Wall walked over to a table and sat down heavily on a chair, leaning his head down as if very weary. “If you have no idea where they will land, you must have a plan.”

Gamelin took up the explanation. “King Freidal has ordered the Olmechan army divided into three parts. One goes just north of South March, with twenty thousand men from the Royal Army, under General Denethon, to command the southern force. One part will go west of South Port, with the rest of the Royal Army–that is the part I am to command.

“The third part will go near the coast, south of Baytown, reenforced by troops under Xitki Quillan. It is unlikely that they will attack further north.”

“There are hundreds of miles of coastline along there!”

“You will see in the instructions from King Freidal that the beaches are to be lightly picketed. The pickets will have to make cold camps from where they can watch the beaches, but not be seen. They are to observe only. The strongest warnings should be made that they are not to engage and above all, they must not be seen. Those men are the eyes and ears of the kingdom! They must retreat to a preplanned location, where they can find our main body assembling, while maintaining observation of the invaders. Then we will meet them in strength.

“There is another thing we will have to do. The coastal villages have to be stripped of as much food and weapons as we can. We can’t let the invaders forage for their supplies. We will set up supply columns to feed the coastal villages and towns, but there can’t be more than a moon quarter’s food for them on hand at once.”

“I know my villagers would immediately take to their heels if that were to happen. Townsfolk are slower to respond, but most will run as well,” Count Mountain Wall mused.

“Many will, but some will not. It is a hard thing to contemplate, but the people of the coastal villages and towns who don’t go sooner will have to be ready to run with little or no notice if they are attacked. The village pickets will have to be visible, and they will have to have alarm bells to warn people to leave quickly. The coastal towns should be cleared of as many people as possible, as soon as possible.”

Gamelin bowed his head, “Not all will escape, and we can’t afford to evacuate everyone from the coastal towns and villages. Not until those transports sail. Once there is no retreat for the men of Becal, we will show them no mercy. I don’t think we will see much mercy from soldiers of the God-King.”

Vosper spoke up. “Lord Count, you are a known man. It will lay on your shoulders to make things work between the two different armies. Lord Gamelin and I have experience working with the Ruthani. You will have your work cut out for you! 

“One thing that will help is that a great many of the Olmechan soldiers are following Galzar’s Way now, and there are quite a few Uncle Wolfs among them. Some of their training is a little spotty, but their hearts are in the right place these days, and they will work with your Uncle Wolfs, because they are very eager to learn Galzar’s Way, which they think makes them better soldiers.”

“Let me read Freidal’s instructions, then we will talk more. Count Gamelin, I have no trouble being commanded by you. I might look soldierly, but I’m as fond of my comforts as the next man, and I was a soldier a long time ago.”

III

Lieutenant Vardos leaned close to his friend, Lieutenant Pfilemakker, and whispered “I was with Lady Aditya and was close to getting lucky when I heard the alarm.”

“Ha!” the other lieutenant said, “I was just sitting down to breakfast!” He nodded to the front of the room. “What do you make of this?”

“Our brigadier is next to Count Mountain Wall. This is probably not practice. Still, I hope it is practice,” he said, wishing for the best.

The brigadier stood up, and the sound in the room dropped off to nothing. The brigadier looked neither right nor left, but straight ahead as he started to speak. “For centuries we feared an invasion from the God-King. It was a hard thing not to feel a sigh of relief when the God-King’s empire was thrown down, but the fact is, False Styphon is the likely source of the treason there too, just as the false god was the source of the treason that felled our king.

“It is a hard thing I have to tell you, and harder even to understand. The Olmechans took over after the God-King was killed, and have managed to stay organized when the most monstrous deed, ever, was perpetrated against them.

“This is a different world, but our enemies have remained False Styphon and the God-King. And we have allied with the Olmechan king to fight the remnants of the False Styphon, allies of the adherents of priests of the God-King. Thus it is my duty to tell you two important facts: Troops of Styphon and the God-King are on their way to attack us. And troops of the Olmechans are rushing to our aid.

“We do not know where the invaders will attack. Two hundred thousand of them are embarked on ships and they can land anywhere on our coastline, and as you all know, it is a very long coastline.

“There is no way we can defend our entire coastline. None. We barely muster two hundred thousand men, and there is little chance we could place them correctly. We have three waves of Olmechan reinforcements coming, each matching the expected size of the attack, but we have no more idea where to place them than we have for our own soldiers.

“We will have to do a number of things. First, we must lightly picket the beaches. We need to be able to see every mile of beach, and at the same time our pickets must remain unseen. This last is critically important. Word must be sent back to the main body as fast as possible if enemies appear. We will have a number of pre-arranged places for our pickets to fall back to. After the invasion fleet has sailed away–we are concerned about the transports here–we will start skirmishing the enemy advance.

“Skirmishing only! You are not to risk your commands! You will assign half sections every mile or so along the beach we have been assigned, centering on villages and towns. Pickets in villages should have positions where they can see the beach in either direction. If the invaders attack, rouse the villagers and everyone flee towards the meet point. Everyone!

“Beach pickets will be well back, out of sight. There will be no light! Cold camp! No smoking! If the invaders come you will send word straight back to the main body meet point. You will stay out of sight and observe. Under no circumstances are you to engage the invaders! If you accomplish your mission, I will walk the streets of your home, singing your praises. Fail, and I will walk the same streets, cursing your name.

“A further word of caution! There are going to be warships with the transports. Floating artillery platforms! Artillery...you know, case shot at a mile. Balls that range miles. Show yourselves to one of those ships and you won’t be alive for long!

“More information. Brigadier Clemnius has been assigned to move the village food and weapon stocks back from the coast in our area. We don’t want to let the invaders forage off of us. Yes, that will scare some of the villagers and they will pull back from their homes. Make sure they head inland as they are not to camp along the coast.

“The strategy is to hoard our soldiers, draw our enemies in close, and then meet the invaders in force. Count Gamelin of the Trygath is in overall command in this area. With him is Count Mountain Wall, Baron Vosper and General Cambon of the Olmecha. Lord Gamelin fought with Duke Tuck at the fort on the Wen-rotos. Ask Count Mountain Wall to describe that blast! Lord Vosper was the one who fired that shot!

“We don’t know when or where the invaders will come. It is possible that we might get some notice of when, but not where. I personally think they will come here. They won’t attack a town or village at first, but land their troops, get organized and then head for the nearest target.

“Most likely their fleet will stand off the coast, then send a warship in with scouts. They will search inland, not expecting ambushes...yet! This is why they have to discover our forces on our schedule. Lord Gamelin learned from Duke Tuck, and was at the Duke of Mexico’s side throughout the Duke’s campaign against the God-King. He is Countess Judy of Tecpan’s husband. She fought for–and won–a county from the High King, when she was just fourteen summers.

“These people are the best military minds of our time. To the south King Freidal and General Denethon will be acting as we do. To our north, Xitki Quillan lays in wait. Honestly, before I knew who the commanders were, I thought the invaders would come here. Now, I’m sure.

“You captains will have your individual assignments! Picket, then observe, then skirmish if you absolutely must, and when we are ready, crush! Kill them all! But not before you are told to!”

Vardos turned to his friend. “My father told me a few moons ago that the greatest Men of the Ages walk the world today. That we were lucky to be alive to see it.”

Lieutenant Pfilemakker shrugged. “We will be lucky to stay alive. The logistos is my cousin; he says that twenty thousand men in the area have been called up. Put twenty-five men every mile along three hundred miles of coastline–that’s nearly half of our men. Our ’main body’ will be less than fifteen thousand men. Less several thousand support troops, call it ten thousand actual fighting men. Against two hundred thousand? The High King could win at five to one, Duke Tuck could do it at twenty to one. We face twenty to one. Maybe.”

“We will have two hundred thousand Olmechan soldiers on the way.”

“Feathered barbarians with bow and arrows? They won’t stand!”

Captain Dunnkau, their commander, interrupted. “I was with General Denethon at Three Hills. Trust me, Lieutenant, those men are not feathered barbarians armed with bows and arrows. Their general at Three Hills described them as ‘Jungle jaguars equipped with rifles and cannon.’ Contemplate how you would react when facing an enemy who had slaughtered every single one of your family and friends? Every last man, woman, gram and grans as well as the babes and children. They will be dangerous demons, armed with fire and flame, with not the least mercy in their souls for the men who murdered their families.”

He gestured to the two young men. “You will be centered on Lashium Town, west of South Port. Pfilemakker, your men will be in the town and four miles further east. You can leave two full sections in the town, and you will need to be ready for some discontent among the people. Be ready to justify your positions to me, because I will be checking them! Vardos, you’ll be west of the town. You will have a more difficult task. The Coast Road is to be blocked six miles short of Lashium. Turn anyone back who comes from either direction. Pfilemakker, you will not let anyone go east or west from the town–the North Ridge road is the only way to leave Lashium.

“There will be some men from Brigadier Clemnius division at least initially. You will do anything you can to help them, Pfilemakker. Now see how fast you can get your men into position.”


	11. Scouting

I

Vardos took another shovelful of dirt from his fighting position, threw it over his shoulder and then rested. He was aware that his section sergeant was looking daggers at him, because they were digging their holes on the reverse slope of hill about a mile back from the beach.

Sergeant Croyium was new, Vardos thought. There was no reason for anyone to come up here, much less behind the hill. There were a maze of gullies leading higher in the hills, but more important, they were choked with brush. He had men working to clear a path up the hill, so that men could go quickly up the ridge, keeping out of sight of the beach.

Niallos, his scout, trotted down from his post at the top of the hill. “Lieutenant, there is a ship standing offshore, about six miles.” Vardos managed not to glance at the non-existent sun. It was just below the top of the hill and it would be full dark in a palm width.

He heaved himself out of his fighting hole and went to the hilltop, staying low. “Where?” he asked the scout, having scanned the horizon and having seen nothing. The ship was just a faint smudge on the horizon, very hard to see unless you had the sharp eyes of scout.

He slid down a few feet and gave a short pip on his whistle. Sergeant Croyium still had a sour expression on face. “Have the men stand to, quietly. Caution again about light discipline. There is a ship offshore.”

“Lieutenant, may I have a few heartbeats to check it? I’m a fisherman,” the section sergeant said.

“Be quick!”

Croyium went up quickly, expecting to see a fishing boat. Instead, what he saw sucked his breath away. He turned to his lieutenant. “Sir, that’s a warship. A friend drew me a sketch of the ships building in Baytown.”

“A transport?”

Croyium clamped down on his fear. “Warships are narrower than transports, transports have to carry more cargo.”

“Who is this stoutest runner in the company?”

“Niallos, myself and then Private Helios. Helios can make it.”

“Get him to my fighting position. Do not, whatever you do, go on the seaward side of the hills, and caution the men as well. This is no time for a stupid mistake.”

“Yes, sir!”

A finger width later the youngest man in the company was heading up the next ridge with both a written message and a verbal one as well.

II

Cambon went to the hastily called officer’s call, even though there were any number of problems billeting the two hundred thousand men who had arrived the day before.

A signals captain reported. “This is noted as a preliminary report and is unconfirmed as yet, but Captain Dunnkau is a veteran of Three Hills, one of General Denethon’s officers there, and he says that this Lieutenant Vardos is his best man. He has a sighting report of a warship, not, repeat not, a transport, standing six miles offshore in the late afternoon. Only the sharp eyes of a scout saw it.”

Gamelin had a sour look on his face. “Duke Tuck was sure that we would know when they sailed. He gave me a code word for when they sailed.”

General Cambon sat and thought for a moment. “One mistake, one of many that the God-King’s generals made, was a failure to adequately scout ahead of an attack. We do not have good information about the men of Becal, but from the actions we have noted, the priests of Styphon are in the ascendancy and the God-King’s men do what they are commanded by them. Styphon had far better generals, although they seem to have been absent at the end.

“After a catastrophe like what happened after the poisoning of your king, and the even larger one when we lost the war, I imagine that the generals are back on top. Styphon will scout. You should look for unusual messages sent to Xipototec or Tecpan. Most likely Xipototec, but it could be Tecpan, but anything that stands out. They would think to be clever, to use our messaging service against us,” Cambon concluded.

“What should we tell this lieutenant?” the signals officer said.

“Do not be seen, do not engage. Other than that, let them do whatever they want. Report directly in the special code.”

“The lieutenant doesn’t have it.”

“Then get a man to him who does have it as speedily as possible. Send other codes to the other nearby officers and have them redouble vigilance,” Cambon said.

The Zarthani captain looked at Count Mountain Wall to see if he agreed. “You don’t know what to do to follow an order?” the count growled. “Your name, cursed and reviled in your town, Captain!”

Gamelin was gentler. “General Cambon speaks for me and I speak for your king. Do it! Now!”

Cambon looked around the room. “It will be soon; I feel it in my bones. They will pass the ‘clear’ message, attempting to make it sound innocent. Two moon quarters. At the most.”

“It is not yet time to concentrate our forces,” Gamelin said, “not until we know more.”

Cambon nodded. “But soon, I think.” He stood up next to a map of the coast. “If I was doing this, I’d land west of South Port, then attack east towards the city. If they do that, we might catch them between all of our northern and central forces. Maybe even the further southern force can get into position in time. The troops from South March can reach South Port faster than the men of Becal. Particularly if you skirmish ahead of them. I remember what my brother said about the march from the Big River to Three Hills. My brother said that they didn’t take a step without an attack!”

“We can get half of Brigadier Clemnius’s division in front of them, and a chunk of Brigadier Olney’s division. With odds and sods militia we could field a division ahead of them as skirmishers,” General Cambon said.

“General,” Count Mountain Wall spoke, “I’ll hang the next officer who questions one of your orders or an order of Count Gamelin. “I might be old, I am not as fast as I once was, but my brain isn’t addled. You are true men, here to help us. I will not let any interfere in the rescue of the kingdom.”

III

Gamelin stood up over the map table and stretched. Only then did he notice the Ruthani waiting patiently for him.

“Leem,” he said, surprised.

“Lord Tuck changed his mind. I assured him that I could run faster than a Styphoni can sail. They sailed eight days ago. The winds are not favorable at this time of the year; they will be here in another moon quarter. I’ve warned General Denethon, and as soon as I catch my breath, I’ll be off to warn Count Quillan.”

“We think they will come here. We noted a scouting party put ashore near a town. They actually checked the horse plop along the Coast Road before they returned to their ship,” Gamelin replied.

“Everyone thinks they will land on this part of the coast,” Leem agreed. “I need to see where their scouts landed.”

“Not a problem. Do you think we should reinforce the pickets?”

“No, Count. The duke is worried that they have fell weapons. The original plan is good. Lightly skirmish, keep in contact, and observe them.

“I observed their preparations in Becal. I have seen the difference between how they land troops on a beach and how they land them at a dock. At a dock they are much faster unloading and on a beach they need special boats to get the men and supplies off. Most of their ships didn’t load boats. I think you said the key thing. They will surround this town with a small portion of their troops landed on the beach, and then, after they take the town, will come across the town’s docks.”

“Perhaps we should burn the docks before they arrive,” Gamelin mused.

“They are unlikely to start by massacring an entire town. We want to kill them all. Let them land, which will give the people of the town a chance to escape, and then burn the docks. You know that the Olmecha have a few mortars with each column?”

Gamelin shook his head. “General Cambon hasn’t mentioned it.”

“They sent a third of a hundred with each column. They have only two hundred rounds for each gun. They probably think they will not be very useful.”

“I can tell you how useful six mortars are with only sixteen shells for each! And twelve mortars with only forty shells for each!”

“Count Gamelin, the Zarthani never realized how effective the mortars were, even when they had their noses rubbed in it repeatedly. Not until it was too late. And then later, most of them lied to themselves about what had happened,” Leem told the count.

“Leem, please make your way to the coast and observe. Take Vosper with you. If they don’t come by the next full moon, get to Count Quillan as quick as you can.”

“A day and a half, maybe two days to get there if the roads are busy,” Leem told him. “As I said, at this time of the year winds are very adverse. I can warn Count Quillan in plenty of time.“

IV

In the morning Jako was pronounced fit by the head priest, and he returned to the his squad’s area. Tertium shrugged when he saw Jako. “You started it!”

“Yes, sorry, I suppose. What did I start?” Jako was shaking his head in confusion.

“Major Gryllos had a visit very early from a Zarthani colonel, who commands the ferry on the Great Northern River. The colonel told the major that they probably dropped their boats off the first time they sailed by, and opened fire to the north, before the boats had quite reached shore to draw our attention away from the attack. Probably they wanted to burn the lower town, fishing boats and warehouses.

“Oh, and Lieutenant Remus set the pickets out last night and didn’t place any seaward. Today he is drawing maps of the camp and town, planning out where his pickets will be tonight.

“I went to where you were last night–the fog’s too thick to see anything this morning. They say it’ll clear off after lunch. Probably,” the veteran told Jako.

Jako found his gear; it was spotless, and obviously had been well looked after. Tertium was dismissive. “You aren’t the first man who has gone down the company has had. We take care of our own, even in the little things. When my father was in our Great King’s army, there were men who would steal a wounded man’s things as a matter of course. There’s no one like that in the Heavy Weapons Company! We’d hang him by his best part!”

At lunch Jako could finally eat his fill; he was surprised at how much self control he had–of course, he had less than no desire to throw up again. And by then a couple of hundred Zarthani infantry had arrived from the ferry, and took up positions down in the warehouses by the sea, and along the cliff top.

Jumper motioned to Jako after the meal. “You speak Plains and Northern Ruthani?”

“Plains, not much Northern. I understand you, mostly.”

“We have a couple of prisoners; their skin color is darker than the Ruthani, about the same as the Olmechans. No one can understand a word they say. Come try.”

So he found himself facing four men, all burly, and all who looked vaguely like Ruthani. Jako spoke some words, they spoke some words and Jako could see it was fruitless.

“I don’t understand a word either,” he reported to Jumper.

“Well, they’ll go south under heavy guard. Queen Elspeth didn’t speak any of our languages either, but she learned quickly enough. Perhaps she will have better luck with these men.”

The Zarthani colonel who was there, nodded. “I have no orders about these prisoners in particular, but I’ve been told to send any prisoners south as fast as possible. I’ll have two squads on one of the fishing boats before night falls. Normally I’d be more careful of prisoners, but if they have even more ships like those that burned last night nearby–we’re going to have more problems than a few lost prisoners.”

He grinned at Major Gryllos. “The king shall hear of your brave stand here, Major!”

Gryllos watched him go, wondering not for the first time what made men so stupid. Of course King Freidal was going to hear of this! He’d hear of his soldiers who hid behind anything solid they could find and who didn’t come out until long after the shooting had stopped.

Which reminded Gryllos. He called Lieutenant Menardes to him and reminded him to write his report as quickly as possible. Lieutenant Remus was called and Gryllos was frank. “Write your report. Put everything in it, including your failure to picket the cliff. Be sure to include my failure to check your dispositions.”

“Sir?”

“Lieutenant, you made a mistake. My mistake was, in its way, larger. You are young and inexperienced and I’m not supposed to be. No one is surprised when a junior lieutenant makes a mistake. The surprise is a major who didn’t notice. I’ll include my failure in my report as well. Contemplate what would have happened if Private Jako had been able to hold his water better! That sort of luck happens now and again–rely on it and you will shortly be dead, along with many good men.”

“Yes, sir!”

The young man still was dejected, but not the total black funk of a few finger widths before.

At dinner, Gryllos called for Jako and Sergeant Roric. “Are you better, Jako?” he asked.

“Much better, sir. I’ll be ready for tomorrow.”

“About that. I’m afraid I don’t hold much confidence in that Zarthani colonel. As soon as you can in the morning head north, Jako. Stay a bit away from the ferry until mid-morning, then once you see it getting ready to set out, hurry down and across with the ferry. Tell them you are to see if our horses are ready, and to report back if they aren’t. They will likely lie, but the sudden push will remind them how unhappy their king will be if we are not quickly on our way. As soon as you’ve passed on the message, go a ways off and pretend to sleep for a bit; let them think of you as a lazy scout. When no one is around, continue north as I ordered you before.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Roric, normally you and yours would be last to cross the river. I want Tertium and five others moving north as pickets as quickly possible after the first ferry has crossed with our men. They are to travel carefully in pairs, about a mile apart. A palm width before sundown, the pickets are to halt in place and one man is to return to the column. We won’t be moving before day after tomorrow, so there is plenty of time. The rest continue to scout forward. The second night, another man returns, and they form up in two pairs. Tell them to be careful!”

“Yes, Major!” Roric said.

“Jako, observe North Port for a bit, then return to Roric and the others. Return at once if you see anything suspicious.”

“Yes, Major!”

“I have no reason to be concerned, but I was assured we would be safe here. We weren’t. I won’t be surprised again.”

Back at the squad area Roric clapped Jako on the back. “You’ll take a shotgun this time?”

“Yes, Roric. It’s one thing to fight ships and many men in the dark from a distance with a rifle. When you’re scouting, if they are too far to hit with a shotgun, they are far enough away to be left alone.”

“You’re a good man, Jako, and you had no choice in brothers-in-law. Be careful!”

“Yes, Roric!”

Jako was away before first light, traveling fast along the course of the road. None saw him, though, as he didn’t travel on the road itself.

In the early morning he presented himself at the ferry. “Jako, scout for Major Gryllos, to cross the river to make sure we’ll have horses on the morrow.”

There was a palm’s width of palaver before and after he made the trip across. Jako wasn’t sure if he’d done any good–the horses weren’t ready, but the bloodthirsty warning he delivered wouldn’t hurt.

Then he made a point of finding a shady spot on the edge of trees and taking a nap. Of course he didn’t actually sleep, but even someone next to him wouldn’t have been able to tell.

He’d seen trees before, but never trees like these here. They were huge, mossy and the ground seemed perpetually wet. The shadows lengthened in the afternoon, until he was hidden deep in the growing dark of the previously sun-dappled meadow.

He vanished just before dusk. There was enough light to travel a few miles before the moon set. There were a million places to hide and he availed himself of a very good one when he came to stop.

He was up with first light of dawn and covered another half dozen miles. He stopped at the edge of a large meadow, eyeing it warily. He’d be out there for half a palm’s width, with little cover. There was a small copse of trees to one side, about three-fourths of the way across.

He spent a short time eating some dried meat, then decided that he was in allied territory and was probably safe.

Nonetheless, he ran like the wind, fetching up in the copse a few finger’s widths later. He was about to start across the last patch of open ground, when he heard horses off to the east. He bellied down behind a tree and watched a company of mounted infantry come along the road, just a mile off.

He was quite prepared to wait them out, when they suddenly wheeled and spread out in a long line across the meadow behind him.

Jako sniffed in derision. This was the best they could do? A Ruthani child could search better!

A few more riders appeared, escorting a couple of wagons. He wasn’t happy at all to see several groups of dogs. He didn’t wait any longer. He dashed across the copse of trees, just a few acres in extent. He ran along the northern edge, stopping at every tree along the way to shed a little water on each. In less than a finger width, he retraced his steps, back to the small stream that ran down the center of the copse. He picked up a branch of a tree that was six feet long, then used it to poke one of the large yellow flowers that grew in boggy places–and stunk.

Then he dragged the stick in the grass back towards the northern edge of the copse and covered his earlier route. He dropped the stick in the stream, then moved a dozen yards and buried his boots at the base of a tree, before going another hundred yards.

The tree was one of the oaks, not nearly as common as the evergreens, but had much denser leaves. One thing Hostigi soldiers carried that was useful was a thirty foot hank of rope and he used his to drape over a limb about twenty feet from the ground. He walked up the tree, pulling the slack in as he climbed.

Three more times he used the rope, until he found a nice comfortable split in the tree, with branches growing out in several directions. He glanced down. He couldn’t see the ground so that meant they probably couldn’t see him. Jako settled down to wait.

The men were quiet, he gave them that. Except, whether leading a horse or riding it, horses made a lot of noise. He stayed in his perch until long after dark, long after he could hear the sounds of anyone scouting. He had no idea if they were looking for him in particular, but he couldn’t say that he wasn’t the goal of the search.

He slipped silently down the tree; his boots were gone. That made it clear. Those boots weren’t something that would be worn by anyone other than a soldier. He slipped noiselessly through the dark, going south this time.

Just past midnight, he reached the ferry. Sure enough, the Heavy Weapons Company was off to one side, north of the other troop areas. It was much harder to slip through the guards of the Company. They had flares and were alert, but not so alert as they didn’t fall for the pebble-in-the-bush trick. Jako was sure that no one saw him...no one called for the sergeant of the guard.

Major Gryllos’ tent was another matter. He had a man standing guard next to the entrance. He got the man’s attention with another pebble, then spoke low. “Private Jako, returning with a report for the major.”

The man just bobbed his head, and leaned into the tent. A moment later, the major’s head appeared and the major said softly, “Come!”

Jako went inside. The major didn’t strike a light and Jako could only see a dim shape. “Report, Private.”

“The horses weren’t ready yesterday; I see they were ready today. I went further north to scout as instructed. I’d gotten about six miles...” he related the story of the Zarthani patrol.

The major grunted. “The colonel here told me that they have a regular patrol out along the road that went north yesterday, and we’d likely meet them about halfway to North Port tomorrow, a little after midday. Dogs you say?”

“Yes, sir. While they might not have had any of my clothes, I did rest for a few hours in one spot. That would be enough for the dogs.”

“It would. It’s not easy to hide from dogs.”

“No, sir, it’s not. I climbed a tree.”

“And they didn’t follow you to the tree?”

“I peed on many trees, sir. But not that one. I didn’t leave any traces on the bark climbing. It can be done if you have a little time and are careful.”

V

Rellin had triple lookouts as they stood away the foreign shore. His first mate had borrowed the spyglass and studied the land even as they got further away.

“I’ll be honest, Rellin. This is a good tool. If we were faced with thousands of screaming natives we would see them at once, but one man, trying to hide...

“We will only see the stupid ones,” he concluded.

Rellin ignored his friend’s concerns, addressing his own instead, “The best result is if you get away unseen. Next best is if you are seen and there is no fighting. An acceptable result is you encourage the natives not to bother you. I’d have to think about what happens if there is a fight.”

“Always look for the best, Rellin,” the mate replied.

“The light is fading fast, and we are growing further away,” the mate added.

“I still try to avoid being seen,” Rellin replied.

“You said you would show me some marvels of the spyglass,” the mate reminded the captain.

“It has to get darker yet,” Rellin said.

“How can you see things in the dark?” the mate asked.

“You know the answer to that yourself, if you think about it.”

A little while later the mate understood. “You look at the bright points of light in the sky.”

“Yes. You’ll notice that they are differing colors. Yellow, red, blue, white...”

“And those are balls of fire like the sun, but much further off?” the mate asked.

“Exactly. Now look at the one I’m pointing at now.”

“A red bugger. Isn’t that Mars?”

“That it is. Now just above that, the clear steady white dot, smaller than Mars.”

“Gods! It has a ring!”

“Saturn. Now the brightest one of the lot.”

“Jupiter, I know that. Hey...it has four cubs!”

“As the Earth has a moon.”

The mate took the spyglass from his eye and looked at Rellin. “And you know all of this?”

“The High King’s secrets.”

“And now you know them. Someday, men will go to those very distant places, I am sure. I have no idea of what wonders they will behold when they get there, but I am sure that’s what awaits the voyagers...greater adventures than we ever saw on the sea.”

“Are there any more heavenly wonders you haven’t shown me?” the mate asked.

“The High King avers that we have just scratched the surface.”

“How about the brightest planet of all–Venus?”

Rellin sighed. “Sometimes the answers are hidden. Venus only shows a disk, with crescents like the moon. Mercury is too close to the sun to make out any detail. They don’t appear to have moons. Mars has two, but the spyglass isn’t good enough to see them. In fact, Jupiter and Saturn have scads of moons that we can’t see. I’m told Saturn has a moon big enough to be seen through this, but I haven’t seen it myself.

“All planets circle the sun, and so does the Earth. Mercury is the closest, then Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. There are two other large ones that a spyglass can’t see, and another, smaller than Mercury, at the very edge of our space.”

“And the High King knows all this how?”

Rellin laughed. “Simple mechanic arts, known to all in his land.”

The mate farted obscenely. “Maybe it’s not sorcery, but maybe it is.”

“My friend, the person who produced the first spyglass was a Lost Ruthani teenager, who got killed later in the war. She was curious about the effects of different thicknesses and shapes of glass beads, having observed Duke Tuck’s far-seeing glasses; a girl that never got closer than two thousand miles to the High King.”

“Duke Tuck is maybe a better sorcerer than the High King. He sure beat Count Quillan and the God-King’s men. I would have been willing to bet that no one could beat Quillan in a fight. The man is tricky!”

“Now get your landing party for tomorrow told off and get them ready to go ashore in an alien land. Don’t, whatever you do, make me sorry.”

“You told me I was going to act as the captain on the way home. I’m the one who is sorry I ever shipped with you!” The mate laughed to take the sting from his words.


	12. Kaldi

I

Vardos looked at his signaler in askance. “They are reinforcing me–with just one sergeant?”

“I know Senior Sergeant Clymondes, Lieutenant. He is the brigadier’s man. I am no longer allowed to signal in any direction if a hostile ship is detected,” Sergeant Croyium explained as he listened to the signaler’s report.

“Niallos, what did you see the men who landed do?” Vardos asked.

“Lieutenant, I am not a professional intelligencer, but they went inland as far as the Coast Road. There, they examined horse plop. Picked it up, shredded it, and went to the next piece and did the same. Then they kicked dirt over everything or threw it into a ditch and returned to their ship. There was no moon last night and the ship stayed at least two miles offshore.”

Sergeant Croyium nodded. “Two moon quarters and they will come. The moon will be full, the tides higher than usual. I don’t know how fast you can unload a transport. I assume they practice.”

“I wish we could oppose the landing,” Vardos whispered.

Sergeant Croyium rounded on him. “Thirteen to one odds–maybe we can win. Twenty thousand to one odds–I can guarantee you we would be dead in a few heartbeats.”

Vardos nodded. “I should have mentioned the rest of the Royal Army, a large battery of artillery and maybe some mortars who would join us.”

Croyium laughed. “The division has three mortars, I’m told.”

Niallos echoed the laugh, but his message was harder. “Sergeants know these things–things we shouldn’t know. You have to wonder how effective the Styphoni intelligencers are.”

“Enough. Corporal Didios, go up the hill. Signal the scout’s report. Use a code.”

“The one I have is pretty simple. That’s why Sergeant Clymondes is coming. I’d like to just send ‘Report follows your lead.’ They will know what that means,” the signaler replied.

“And how long will Clymondes take, Corporal?” Vardos asked his signaler.

“He’s probably already at the meet point, sir. Before nightfall.”

Senior Sergeant Clymondes was brisk and efficient. He took the scout’s report and nodded. “They were checking traffic on the Coast Road,” he told Vardos.

Vardos felt like a fool, but the other shook his head. A finger width later the senior sergeant was bounding up the brush-covered hill like a jack rabbit. A palm width later he was back.

“Your orders, Lieutenant, are to maintain vigilance. Last night there was no moon, and in two moon quarters it will be a full moon. That is when they are most likely to come. The invaders are scouting ahead of themselves carefully. The brigadier is alerting the other captains to stress the mission and careful watch and then observing if they come. I’m to stay with you until further notice.”

*** ** ***

Vardos hadn’t seen combat in the recent war with the High King; which probably had been a good thing he thought, as a lot of those men who had fought the High King were dead now. Thus, he had no experience with waiting for an attack, much less having to wait two moon quarters.

The men were alert, particularly at night, but there were no further alarms. To Vardos’ surprise he found Senior Sergeant Croyium to be a major help, a man he found that he leaned more and more upon. And whose advice he avidly sought.

After a moon quarter of waiting, Sergeant Clymondes wanted him to review his positions. Sergeant Croyium shrugged and so Vardos told Clymondes his plans.

“If they land to our front, we will fall back to the meet point. We have prepared paths up the bluff behind the beach where we won’t be seen. In any case, as soon as we see them our messenger will be headed back to the company signal point. If they land offset from one of my sections, the section leader will have to evaluate the threat. Basically, if there are invaders on either side, he retreats as if the enemy was to their front.

“If they are not surrounded, the section leader has to decide. He is, in any case, to send the bulk of his section to the top of the next ridge, there to take overwatch. Only to stay if his men can’t be observed.”

Sergeant Clymondes nodded. “Two of Duke Tuck’s men will be here in the next days.” He looked at Vardos. “They are not to be captured, do you understand? Whatever you have to do to stop them from being carried off. You are authorized to sacrifice yourself and your command to prevent that unhappy circumstance.”

Vardos couldn’t help swallowing. That wasn’t something you wanted to hear!

Two days later two men appeared, accompanied by Sergeant Clymondes. “Lieutenant Vardos, Seventh Scout Division. I present to you Baron Vosper of the High King in service to Count Gamelin of the Trygath and Countess Judy of Tecpan; and Leem, paramount war chief of the Lost Ruthani.”

The Baron Vosper was a solid older man, looking for all the world like every other senior sergeant Vardos had known. The Ruthani was the largest man he had ever seen.

The names with whom the baron had served–those were names to conjure with! He had always heard that the Lost Ruthani were of no account, but their record in the war belied that. Leem was proof, he was sure, of why.

To Vardos’ surprise it was Leem who spoke first. “I want to meet with your scout, please.”

Vardos had a runner go fetch Niallos. The baron inquired of Vardos what his dispositions were, both of the section he was with and for the remainder of company. Vardos drew them on the ground, and mentioning his friend, Lieutenant Pfilemakker in the nearby town.

“Send an order to your friend, not to station himself in the town, and then be sure to take care with his dispositions, so that some of his men will survive the intaking,” the baron told him.

“Do what the baron tells you, Lieutenant Vardos,” Sergeant Clymondes said.

Vardos nodded and scribbled an order sourcing it as “from on high” and sent a runner to bring it to his friend.

“I would please request, Baron, that you and your Ruthani scout stay together, close to me,” Vardos told the man.

Baron Vosper chuckled. “Leem is the first among our Seals, an appellation from the Countess’ homeland. Seals are their name for _Schwimmers_ –they are at home in ocean. The Ruthani Seals are equally at home on the sea and land and Leem leads them.

“Did you know that Leem brought word that they are coming? That their fleet has sailed. He traveled a thousand miles in eight days.”

Vardos boggled at that. The man had averaged one hundred and twenty-five miles a day?

Then Baron Vosper dropped the mortar bomb. “The Lost Ruthani eat horses, they don’t ride them. He came on foot.”

The man hadn’t looked the least bit fatigued! Not the least bit like a man who had run further than any man he’d ever heard of!

“You can get me to stick close, but you will have no chance with Leem.”

Much later he met with Niallos. “Your impression of the Ruthani?”

“Ha! He is a ghost! He said he wanted to practice and to give him a finger width and he’d hide within sight of the observation post. He waved to us to show he was ready.

“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d think a man a great liar who described it! We could look and we did. We never saw him, even though there was no cover. Finally, I told the men to resume their normal watch, and when I did, the Ruthani belched from a dark corner of our position and asked if that meant we gave up. He had snuck up a slope with no appreciable cover and crawled in behind us. He could have killed any of us!

“My cousin was wounded at the fort on the Wen-rotos, while I was recovering from a broken arm at home. Thus, we both lived, because the Hostigi targeted our scouts. Few scouts survived the war. He told me some stories that would curl a man’s toes in fear. Once, the Ruthani entered a camp and killed every man on watch, and left their heads piled by the fire. No one saw anything, no one heard anything.”

“And my father told me that every story he’d heard of the war had grown in the telling after we lost, to excuse it,” Vardos told the scout.

Niallos laughed. “Look to your left, sir!”

There was Leem, sitting, eating a peach. Where had the man gotten a fresh peach?

“Your thoughts, Leem?” Vardos asked with as much composure as he could manage.

“Your men are okay. If you were to face the best scouts of the men of Becal, you would lose. From your report, though, these aren’t their best. They picked up and shredded the dung! One sniff should suffice! You don’t have to pick the plop up!”

“Suppose they are smarter than you think?” Vardos asked.

“They might be smarter than you city dwellers, Lieutenant, but that is nothing to men like me. I will tell you a deep, dark secret! They used our own signal stations to pass the message. And thereby told us exactly who were the spies in the message chain. Once the men of Becal land, those spies will learn exactly why they need to be true to their oaths!”

Vosper sank down next to Leem. Leem grinned. “You will want to get further back, Baron. They will send better scouts next time. I do not relish facing your liege lord if you are lost. Countess Judy frightens me!”

Vardos raised an eyebrow. “You are afraid of a woman?”

Leem bobbed his head. “You have no idea. The Lost Ruthani have heard many tales of bravery in the centuries in their fight against the Mexicotál. Finally our elders decreed that if all the stories were true, the Mexicotál would have been defeated long ago. Since they kept coming we suspected many of the tales were–overblown.

“Now, a tale of bravery needs many witnesses. Lady Judy, at Tarr-Dombra, is credited with killing one hundred and fourteen of the Mexicotál with her field shovel. She broke her bayonet before that, and before that she had emptied her shot pouch for both her pistol and rifle. Lady Judy is as tall as I am, and carried more shot than most. Her rifle was broken as well. There is no way to accurately measure how many she killed. Being critical, the elders gave her credit for one man killed with her rifle, one killed with her pistol, one killed with her bayonet and one with her rifle butt. All men know it was more.

“General Cambon is here, the general who met Countess Judy in some little village in Mexico, seven thousand to her seventy soldiers. Cambon fled the field–Lady Judy had told him how to fight the plague.

“General Gamelin is here, a White Hair survivor of the plague. He is Lady Judy’s husband. So yes, I fear Lady Judy and if I saw her with a field shovel in her hands, I’d flee for my life!”

Vardos looked at Baron Vosper, who laughed. “I was there, on the field adjacent to Tarr-Dombra. The High King listened to the tale and granted her the county. Never disparage Countess Judy to one who was there with her...you will surely die. Disparage her to someone on the other ridge...maybe they will give you a chance to live.”

“You said ninety fought a thousand,” Vardos said. “We will try to do as well.”

“Ah!” Leem exclaimed, “an ambitious man! Know that only fifteen of that ninety survived that day. Two of Lady Judy’s fast friends died; Tanda Havra was wounded, she is the Duke of Mexico’s wife, my no-blood sister. Two of Lady Judy’s friends were sorely wounded, one of them my father. My father and some of friends later bearded the God-King in his capital, and slew him and his heirs.”

Vosper coughed. “Leem’s father was the Lion of the Ruthani.”

Who hadn’t heard the tale! It was generally acknowledged that it had been a fell deed, but the fact was that the God-King of the Mexicotál had been by killed by four men. A Hostigi, a Ruthani, and two of the God-King’s own men, one of them a priest of the God-King. Three moons later the Empire of the Mexicotál fell, to be replaced by the Empire of the Olmecha, and a moon later, that empire was dust.

Vosper clapped the young lieutenant on the shoulder. “Now, ignore all of this and keep training your men in their duties when the men of Becal come.”

II

Gryllos debated with himself if the Zarthani colonel would be foolish enough to attack Heavy Weapons Company, but there was no way he could tell if he would do that. Making a scout disappear would have excited little comment; making the entire Heavy Weapons Company disappear would.

Not to mention the Heavy Weapons Company would take a lot of killing. For sure it could never be kept secret, and the investigation would be at the highest levels in the High King’s army and in Zarthan’s as well. There was no way a plot like the colonel’s would escape notice.

What had they wanted to hide from Jako? It had to be something they feared a scout would learn, but a column of troops would likely miss. He would alert the officers and sergeants in the morning; he could legitimately put a picket party out along the road and he would. Not Jako, though. It wouldn’t do to let them know Jako had come back.

“Jako, you wear the uniform of one of our scouts. You are still one of our scouts, but see the logistos and draw a regular uniform. Wear it until I tell you otherwise,” was the last thing Major Gryllos told him before dismissing him.

“Yes, sir.”

The morning officer’s call had included the major’s sergeants since they’d left Tecpan. “This is, for the time being, highly secret, tell no one. I have doubts about the colonel here; he told me he’d sent his regular patrol north yesterday. Private Jako reports that they spread out in line abreast behind him, seeking someone. He got the distinct impression they were hunting him. Tell your men to check their gear, make sure the ammunition loads are full, and to watch out for anything out of the ordinary. Roric, I’ve ordered Jako into a trooper’s uniform for a few days.

“I noticed, sir.”

“He woke me in the middle of the night,” the logistos sergeant growled.

“I didn’t want him seen in that scout’s uniform.” Gryllos explained, wishing he’d told Jako to see to it right away instead of leaving it to the man to do it. Jako had covered for another of his mistakes.

Then they were getting ready to leave. It had been some time since they’d been on horses, and these horses were unfamiliar with the loads.

How would he do it, if he was told to ambush the Heavy Weapons Company? The best thing would be sabotage their equipment, but that was kept under heavy guard. Then it struck him! The horses! Some horses would spook the first time they heard cannon, but most could be trained out of it. Some, though, couldn’t. These horses were untried as far as he was concerned.

If he wanted to create havoc, a column of gun- and cannon-shy horses would sure do the trick! “Roric, a moment.”

The sergeant dutifully turned to him. “Take three men, ride ahead of the column and the forward pickets. Jako can rest a bit today. When you are about two miles ahead, hold two horses back, ride another half mile ahead, stand next to your horse and fire your shotgun. Hobble it first, and then tie the bridle to something substantial.”

“You think it’s shy, sir?”

“I don’t know. But if I was going to cause havoc with our column, knowing that our horses would spook with just a few shots might be worth trying.”

“Yes, sir!” the sergeant saluted and hastened off to get started.

They reached the point in advance of the column and Roric rode a little way further.

Not much later, Gryllos was surprised to see Sergeant Roric coming back, riding double.

“Roric?”

“I have never seen the like, sir. I tied the horse too high to a tree a foot in diameter. I hobbled it, but those weren’t needed. One shot, Major. The horse jerked back so hard, it broke its neck instantly. Worse, it brought down the tree. Filthy rotten at the base, sir. Nearly hit me.

“Sorry about the horse, sir.”

“Tell me about the road ahead, Roric.”

“It’s well traveled, Major, and in good shape. Still, there are many places where the forest presses close to the road. A simple picket won’t do, sir. We need flank guards as well.”

“We can travel quite well, Roric, running. Send the wagons along the road, with just the drivers and the things we can’t carry. I won’t risk more men than I have to. The rest of us will cut inland.” He lifted his voice. “Private Jako!”

Jako appeared. “Sir!”

“Scout ahead, to column left. There are two rivers we have to cross. Assume a dismounted crossing of each. Do be careful, Jako.”

The man saluted, and said, “Yes, sir.”

Gryllos laughed when the scout seemed to vanish. The damned Ruthani! They could disappear before your very eyes!

“Officer and NCO call!” Gryllos shouted.

“Our men have gotten fat and lazy on the voyage! I think we should run a little! Drivers only on the wagons! Shotguns and pistols for arms! String the extra horses in lines of twenty! Move it! Move it! I expect to be in North Port by High Sun tomorrow!”

III

Jako moved rapidly away from the column. He’d been over some of this ground yesterday, now he moved further west, missing the meadow altogether. About three miles past the meadow was a boiling stream. He eyed it carefully. He could see rocks in many places, and others were humps in the water of barely submerged rocks.

He waited and listened for a few finger widths. Birds sung in the trees and others flitted about. There were the normal small sounds of the shy and meek animals, hiding in the grass.

He eased across as gently as he could, not wanting to be out of cover longer than needed, but not wanting to start every beast and bird for miles. Jako had nearly reached the other bank when he saw the dusky shape draped across a log, about ten feet beyond the water.

He didn’t slow, but did move to put himself behind a tree. The shape was unmoving and looked dead. He paused and listened again, but there were just the usual forest sounds. His movements hadn’t started anything.

He moved a little closer, his shotgun up and ready.

As he got closer, he hurried. It was a young woman, he thought. A Ruthani. She was covered on her left side by a blood splash, coming from a nasty slash on her arm, but she was otherwise nude. A sword slash, if he were any judge. He shook her gently. “Are you alive, girl?”

For a moment her eyes opened, unfocused. Then she saw him and there was a some heartbeats of fear. Not all of the Northern Ruthani spoke Zarthani, so he repeated his question in his best Northern Ruthani.

He was unprepared for her reaction. She reached out to him, hugging him tightly, burying her head on his chest, sobbing.

He reached out and stroked her hair gently. “You’re safe, girl! I am a soldier of the High King. He rewards those of us who save innocents, and kills those who try to harm them! You’re safe!”

She hugged him tighter. He was a man; he couldn’t be hugged by a nude woman and not be a little stirred, no matter how hard he willed it otherwise. For all of that, she never looked at him, she never spoke, she just sobbed and clung.

After several finger widths he was as gentle as he could be when he asked, “Girl, are those who did this close?”

She glanced up at him and cried harder. He grown up with an older sister and tears were a familiar weapon. Still, the reason they were a formidable weapon was their effectiveness.

“Girl, let me help you across the stream.” She glanced to the west, and then struggled to her feet. She wobbled and wavered. Jako merely plucked her from her feet and carried her across. She wasn’t able to do so on her own, and Jako sighed and put his arms under her back and legs and carried her bodily back to the south.

When he got close to the column the pickets spotted them; he was like a drunken turtle, he thought. Just as bad as the day he’d essayed rancid bear fat.

One of the priest’s assistants hurried up, The girl was unconscious when he started checking her over. When Major Gryllos appeared, the assistant bobbed his head. “Major, that is a bad slash: from a sword I’m thinking. I need to sprinkle some of the Priest’s Powder in it, then I’ll have to stitch it up. She’ll not wake for the powder, sir. But she’ll be awake for the stitches. But without them, she’s likely to bleed to death.”

“A sword cut?”

“Perhaps a moon quarter ago. It is healing well, but the scab had been broken several times. I can see the layers, sir. She must keep the wound clean–and dry–for as long as possible.”

“Roric, have a tunic and pants fetched. She’s Ruthani, Jako?”

“I believe so, sir. She clings to me like I’m a kinsman.”

“But you’ve never seen her before?”

“No, sir. I spoke to her in Northern Ruthani after I tried Zarthani. She showed no sign she understood either, but the first time she hugged me was when I spoke to her in what I suspect is her language.”

“Aid her, do what you must. I want to hear her story.”

It took forever, Jako found. The pants weren’t an issue, and the tunic top brought up wasn’t either. Even the stitches, she took them like a true Ruthani, without a sound although she never looked at the priest’s aide, but clung to Jako’s hand.

He tried to speak to her, but she shook her head and mimed sleep. “Roric, she wants to sleep.”

“Well, we’ve stopped for the night. Put her in your tent, you sleep just outside. Be sure she doesn’t run, Jako.”

“Yes, Roric.”

Slept she did, and she was awake when camp roused early in the morning. She promptly wrapped her good arm around Jako’s left and clung to him tightly.

Roric just laughed. “Do what the major ordered, Jako. Whatever it takes to get her to tell her story.”

“Roric, I tried to talk to her, it’s either a very simple question, or she buries her head against my chest and starts to cry. So far I’ve made no progress.”

“Keep at it, Jako.”

So he walked with her, only able to carry his shotgun and a pistol, but walk he did. She wouldn’t let go of his arm, though. About ten in the morning, Major Gryllos rode down the column and walked his horse next to Jako.

“Has she said anything, yet?”

“No, sir. But she’s terrified of something.”

“The advance picket says that a Zarthani patrol that was out is coming back. The pickets say that the patrol crossed the river ahead without problems, and didn’t take any precautions. I’ve told the wagons to continue on the road, while we’ll cross at the place you scouted.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Anything you can learn, Jako. Something isn’t right here.”

“Yes, sir.”

The major returned to the head of the company; the only man mounted with the main part of the column. Jako turned to the girl. “I’m Jako Nighthawk in the language of the High King and the Zarthani. What’s your name?”

She looked around, then pointed high in a tree. A red squirrel looked down on the men, wary, but not willing leave the pinecone whose seeds it was devouring. “The squirrel?” She nodded and made a gesture he interpreted as meaning small. “Little Squirrel? Kaldi?”

She nodded vigorously.

“You can’t speak...or won’t?” he asked softly. She buried her head against his chest. He patted her hair gently, feeling hot rage course through his veins. This girl had seen something terrible; he didn’t know what, but he’d find out. Then he’d take the sort of revenge that Ruthani take against monsters.

A sergeant came jogging down the column. He slowed just as he reached Jako. “Major’s compliments, a Zarthani patrol. Hide the girl.” He had barely slowed and continued on to confer with the lieutenant commanding the rear guard.

Hide the girl? How was he going to do that? They were marching in column of twos. There was no place to hide! Jako laughed at himself! He was Ruthani! Maybe he wasn’t as good as the Lost Ruthani were reported to be, but he could hide a girl.

“Tertium, your hat.” Not many of the men still had their hats, the straw covers woven by the women of Tecpan for their soldiers. Still, Tertium was a large man, and Kaldi had a head of hair that he wadded up and hastily stuffed under the hat. She was wearing a tunic and breeches no different than the rest of them. “Kaldi, there are some men coming. You must not be recognized. I’m sorry, but for a bit you’ll have to let go my arm and put your head down.”

There was not going to be a way to disguise the sling, but broken bones were a common enough occurrence in any army. “Give her your second pistol,” Tertium offered. He was right, Jako thought. A soldier, even an injured one, would have a weapon.

He stuffed the pistol in her belt, and then tipped her head forward. He looked along the column. The Zarthani had stopped to talk with the major only briefly. Jako was on the wrong side of Kaldi, so he hastily switched. “Keep your head down. Do try to sneak a look though, let me know if you’ve seen them before.”

She shook her head, and Jako didn’t have time to ask what she meant. The mounted men rode quickly along them column, pretty much ignoring them. Three men under a corporal, Jako noted. Not for the first time he realized how much he’d learned in the last few moons.

The Heavy Weapons Company did take precautions crossing the stream, and once across Major Gryllos called on them to run once they were across. Jako was afraid that Kaldi couldn’t keep up, but she was Ruthani after all, and while the Heavy Weapons Company moved faster than most infantry companies, they weren’t Ruthani.

IV

Rellin was on deck early the next morning. They had struck the sails around midnight and started back as soon as it was light. Again, he had triple lookouts with several looking in other directions than towards the land.

Finally, shortly before High Sun, they anchored. They were, Rellin thought, too close to the shore, but the ocean shoaled abruptly near these islands. In that, the High King had been accurate. Still, a dozen eyes and the spyglass did not reveal anything untoward.

Rellin’s mate and thirty men went over the side, hurrying to get the job done.

All was well for the first palm width, but then one of the lookouts called down to the main deck. “Sail Ho! Off to the northeast!”

Rellin raced into the yards and saw just the tops of another ship’s sail. He bobbed his head at the lookout, and yelled to the deck. “Set the mainsails, tack to the southeast!”

A few heartbeats later, he was next to the signaler on the main deck. “Send ‘Hide! We will be back when there are no sails to be seen! We’ll try tomorrow, at first light.’”

The signaler sent the message and turned to Rellin, “He says they will be like ghosts!”

A moment later he was back up on the main mast, next to his best lookout. “Still couldn’t see their mains’ls, sir, when we caught the wind. I keep checking and they are not much, if no closer.”

The afternoon wore on, and it was clear the other ship was paying another visit to the same place as yesterday. Rellin had no idea if it was the same ship or a different one, but the only thing he cared about was that it was here.

The sun went down and he called for the sails to be struck at once; they hadn’t seen another ship for hours and he wanted to be ready to return to the island as soon as possible in the morning.

They set the main sails, but not the upper courses the first thing the next morning. There were the usual triple lookouts as they approached where they had left the mate and his party. They approached the shore boldly, not having seen anyone around and signaled the mate.

The mate signaled back, “I have violated the High King’s standing orders. Let’s do this fast.”

Rellin contemplated what he knew of the High King’s orders and admitted to himself he hadn’t a clue what his friend meant. Still, he put a lot of boats over the side with orders to get the shore party aboard, and their supplies, as quickly as possible.

The shore party signaled all was ready, and Rellin insured that the crew was ready to deal with the cargo when it arrived. He was there when the first boat arrived with his mate and a strange man sitting next to him. The man was obviously injured, wearing a bloody bandage on his head and a sling for his arm.

His friend spoke quickly once he was on deck. “We found this fellow pretty badly banged up. A bullet hole in his arm and what looked like a large splinter of wood stuck in his shoulder. He wanted to put up a fight, but I convinced him not to. Since then, I’ve tried to convey the idea that we are friends. I doubt if he believes me.”

Rellin nodded and turned to hoisting the water barrels aboard. They were half done, when a lookout screamed, “Sail ho! He just came out of a squall, not six miles off!”

Rellin made a mental note, Squalls were an afternoon feature, for the most part, and the only attention he paid to them was trying to avoid them. The thought that an enemy could use one to hide in and approach unnoticed was disquieting.

“Leave the boats, but get everyone aboard. Sound the battle alarm. They will be up on us in a half palm width. Get the men up in the yards and set sail.”

He cast an expert eye at the banner staff. The wind was brisk, blowing towards the land. He was trapped! He would have to fight!

“Man the guns!” he called.

He contemplated things. The other ship was rushing towards them, and in a finger width he would be moving himself. He contemplated possible tactics. There was no hope, they would have to take at least one broadside, but with care, they could give one in return.

It was like the Duke of Mexico was whispering in his ear. “Make them think something not true!”

What would be the least best choice now? Pass them on the his port side...they had to know he was from Zarthan. He would have to tack past them, giving them the windward advantage again.

How could he hurt the other to discourage a pursuit? What damage could one broadside do to a determined enemy? How do you kill a ship such as his–or theirs–with one broadside?

Countess Noia reported that fights between these ships was often a slugfest, with many broadsides. His original crew were little more than pirates and were leavened with a good number of new men. They had come together well, but under the stress of a prolonged battle? He had to convince the other ship not to pursue, and that would take some convincing!

What would convince an enemy not to pursue? Devastating damage, unlikely to come from one broadside, but a sustained battle.

“Veer to port as soon as we have way on her,” he told the helmsman.

The man looked at him as if Rellin was bereft of his senses, but cranked the wheel over as ordered.

Yes! The other ship heeled in his direction! What could he do to get them to turn away? Try to board! He would swerve to starboard, just after the other fired his broadside. They would turn away, hopefully. That would raise their side higher in the water.

Rellin turned to his friend. “Go below. Tell the gunners to depress their guns as much as they can, and when we turn to starboard, fire the guns as they bear!”

“Aye!”

What should he do about the men in the yards? The odds were even, he thought, whether they would try to cripple his sails or rake his decks. Unless he was very unlucky, he could deal with either. If his luck turned bad...

The two ships were rushing together now, seeking to pass two hundred yards apart. Rellin waited until the right moment. “Turn to starboard!”

He was stunned at what happened next. The two ships vanished in huge pillows of fireseed smoke. The other had heeled to avoid a collision! Their broadside was mostly very high, and had little effect. His broadside, on the other hand, went low into the other ship’s unprotected side.

At first the other seemed to be unaffected. A finger width later though it was a different story. The other ship was clearly drifting, probably all hands were trying to keep her afloat.

The lookout called down to the deck. “I see smoke, sir!”

Abruptly the ship was gone, it was just an expanding globe of orange fire and black smoke.

A finger width later his friend was on deck. “Our men want to know why we haven’t tacked.”

Rellin laughed, and pointed to where the smoke and dust cloud lingered. “Tell them there will be no pursuit!”

“Great Galzar! We killed them!”

“They tell stories of what happened in that little fort near the Wen-Rotos, when Duke Tuck hit their fireseed store. I don’t know which explosion was larger, but this one was large enough.”


	13. North Port

I

The day the attack was expected, Vardos ordered half of his men to sleep in the morning, then later, the remainder in the afternoon.

Darkness trickled over the hills and down to the beaches and the expectation was at a high point. A palm width after the sun faded from the sky a breathless runner arrived. “A ship is standing offshore and has put out a boat. Per your orders, Sergeant Killan has pulled back to the top of the bluff. His half section was directly to the front of the ship.”

A short time later another runner came. “Their scouts went just to the Coast Road and then flashed a hooded lantern to their ship.”

After two finger widths, Sergeant Killan sank down next to Vardos. “They have sent four ships to close the shore. There is a vast shoal of small boats headed to the beach. I pulled everyone back, and sent a runner to the meet point.”

“Four ships,” Vosper mused. “Halfway down the beach? Halfway to the town?”

“Yes, Baron.”

Sergeant Clymondes said, “Send a runner to the signal point. Flash 4-1-4 until the signal is returned.”

A runner was off running. Vardos was beside himself; he had yet to see anything. Vosper recognized the lieutenant’s inexperience. “Steady, Lieutenant! Your duty is not to attack our enemies. It is to observe and report. Only that! Your men are the eyes and ears of the army! There is no more important duty for you than that!

“Lord Tuck came to Outpost telling us the advantages of scouting the enemy. He traveled into the Mexicotál lands and took a town, something that had never been done before. 

“How did he do it? He scouted them! He showed their scouts misleading information and they barely scouted against us at first. We slaughtered them! We fought thirty thousand with eight thousand. We killed them all, in two days of battle! We lost less than a hundred men!

“The secret was scouting!”

Vardos took a deep breath. “What should I do next, Baron?”

“Don’t turn to me for direction or advice! Your orders cover this is that not so?”

“It doesn’t seem very much like Galzar’s Way, but yes, my orders tell me what to do.”

“Do that then!”

Another runner appeared a few finger widths later. “Sergeant Killan reports that about fifteen hundred men were landed. It is too dark to make out much detail, but they formed up and headed for Lashium. There is only a small party, perhaps two sections, left behind, guarding the boats Sergeant Killan says.”

“Remind Sergeant Killan not to engage!” Vardos told the runner, and then he found that Sergeant Clymondes had sent another messenger to the signal point.

“I know you have friends in that town, Vardos. Any soldier in town is going to die unless he can run really fast,” Baron Vosper said.

“Lieutenant Pfilemakker was told not to sleep in the town,” Vardos replied. “He should be okay.” It sounded weak even to Vardos. His friend loved his creature comforts and a bed in an inn was infinitely better than the ground in cold camp. And his friend would never run from danger.

As if to make it clear, there was sudden burst of gunfire in the distance.

The sound doubled, then redoubled again and most astoundingly redoubled once more.

“That is the sound a hundred thousand rifles make,” Vosper said.

The sound increased yet again to a fantastic angry roar. Vosper sank to the ground. “Send a message, Plain text, the word ‘six’ repeated four times. Most carefully repeated four times–no more and no less.”

He looked up at Vardos. “Send to the units west of here: repair to the meet point forthwith. You yourself will remain here until told differently, and your orders remain the same. Watch. Do not, under any circumstances, engage.”

“Baron, that sounded like the entire invasion army,” Lieutenant Vardos said.

“Tell your men to expect Leem before dawn. If one of them shoots him by accident, I’ll cut off his pecker and balls,” Vosper commanded.

Vardos had no doubt that the baron was quite capable and willing to do so. And then kicked himself because he hadn’t noticed that Leem was gone.

In the distance, the shooting ratcheted down rapidly, and the night was quiet again. About a palm width later they saw some flares over the town’s dockside. After that, the flares never stopped going up. It was too far to make out much detail, but there were a lot of ships pulled up alongside the dock in the town, the one that jutted hundreds of yards out to sea.

Sergeant Clymondes reported to Vardos. “Sir, I’ll be departing now to the signal point. When Leem returns at dawn, you are to give Baron Vosper and Brigadier Leem a strong escort to the meet point, not the signal point.”

He vanished into the brush and Vardos turned to Vosper. “I never knew he was a general, sir. I thought he was your subordinate.”

“The Ruthani ignore ranks. Leem would be the first to tell you he is ‘Leem’ and not ‘General Leem.’”

“A man should be proud of the rank he achieves,” Vardos said stiffly.

“When your father was the Lion of the Ruthani, you have nothing else to achieve.”

“Where is Leem?”

“He is the premiere scout in Mexico. He will be here before dawn with more intelligence. Then, we too will go. If you remain undiscovered, we’ll probably see you again.”

“Eh? What’s that?” Vardos asked.

“Not now Lieutenant, not now. You could be captured.”

A palm width before dawn, Leem did indeed return, bearing a strange rifle. “I found this rifle on a man of Becal who had tripped over a rock and hit his head. The rock took offense and hit him a few times in return.

“It is like the duke feared, Vosper.”

“I remember the duke’s rifle fired ten times without reloading, as fast as you could pull the trigger,” Vosper said.

“This fires fifty times, and you only have to pull the trigger at the onset. There is a weakness here. If you hold down the trigger the recoil pushes the muzzle up, until you are shooting straight up. You have to let the trigger go and then re-aim. And you have wasted twenty or thirty bullets.”

Vosper nodded and then turned to Vardos. “You will break camp and pull back to the top of the next ridge. Observe and report for as long as you can. Report everything you see, there is no detail too small. Unit sizes, unit equipment, patrols, schedules, training activities...anything.

“One thing to remember. One of our mortar companies was sent to North Port earlier this spring. They reported they had to delay several days once they were disembarked, to let the men recover from their sea journey. Some were unaffected, but some were stricken as if they had the plague. Everyone recovered but their military utility was affected. Observe any signs of this that you see. Above all, observe and then report those observations.”

Vardos met the Baron’s eyes. “Hiding is not going to satisfy my men.”

“Lieutenant, I was with the patrol that brought back Lord Tuck. He convinced Count Errock of Outpost to send scouts out and have them report back as you have been ordered to. The scouts did not demur; they are expert at hiding and understand the value of their observations. Those observations were the foundation we built everything on. Every one of our victories were the result of intelligence gathered by our scouts.

“That’s your task, Lieutenant, to do as long as you can. You will not be reinforced; what you have is what you get. This is for your families, Vardos. What you learn here may make the difference between victory or defeat. I cannot say it more plainly than that.

“Another thought to contemplate, Lieutenant. One of the Duke’s favorite sayings: Your duty is to make your enemy’s soldiers die for their king, and not die yourselves. You gain nothing by your deaths unless it hurts your enemies far more than it hurts King Freidal and your people.”

The baron gave a salute, then turned and vanished into the brush. Vardos was embarrassed that once again he hadn’t seen when Leem had left.

Vardos called his men to him. “We are twenty-five. We are here, with eyes on the invaders. We have been ordered to stay behind and observe the enemy as scouts. As scouts our duty does not lay in fighting our enemies, but it requires that we watch them and report what we see.

“Our first task is clean up our camp to remove as much sign of our presence as possible, then we will climb the next ridge and make another cold camp.

“We are the eyes of our army. We are not to risk discovery! No lights, no smoking, don’t stand on the ridgeline where you will be outlined against the sky. Everything we’ve been doing for nearly a full moon! Let’s get to work!”

Vardos worked as hard as his men, and then when the men had gone up the ridge in the dark, he made a last trip through the camp. It wasn’t perfect, but that wasn’t really possible. However, one steady rain would erase everything. He could hope!

Early the next morning a large party of the invaders came along the Coast Road, easily nearly a thousand. Only two men were mounted and Vardos assumed they were officers. There were ships still unloading at the docks. They timed them and found that about one in three took a half-day but the large majority of them took only a half palm width.

Troops and supplies, he thought. There were eight ships unloading at one time and either two or three were supply ships. At High Sun he sent his first runner north with reports on ship counts, the soldiers who’d marched past his post, heading further west.

At dark he sent another runner with updated counts, and said he hadn’t seen the soldiers return yet. The scout, Niallos, left to go carefully west to if he would see them.

Niallos was back just before dawn. “You know where the Coast Road goes between some rocks, four miles west?”

Vardos nodded.

“They have the start of a barricade across the road. I think they are pickets for their main body.”

“That’s nearly ten miles from town! They are out of contact there!” Vardos exclaimed in surprise.

“I got close enough to see that there were nearly a thousand men behind a barricade with those fearsome rifles. They will be very hard to move, and a good many of our brothers would die doing so.”

“We will report this at first light,” Vardos said emphatically.

There had been flares all night for a second night and they could see ships coming and going at a faster pace than before. A palm width after first light another group of soldiers appeared on the road. There were only about fifty of them, with one mounted officer and the rest on foot. They didn’t move as fast as the soldiers the day before, and they had flank guards, but they weren’t very far from the road, and only on the inland side.

What seemed like the same patrol returned in middle of the afternoon. They were moving much faster and there were no flank guards at all.

There was some grumbling that evening, but it was the smokers. Sergeant Croyium made a recommendation about their complaints. “We can build a deep dugout, roof it with branches and dirt. We put a poncho over the outer entrance and another over the inner entrance. They will lose their smoking privileges if we ever see any light. I’ll watch it, Lieutenant.”

“And what if the Mexicotál come up here, looking for us?”

“Then they will find what they expect, won’t they, sir? If they start scouting this far from the road, they are on to something.”

“There’s that, Sergeant. It’s up to us to give them no cause.”

“Yes, sir. Be aware that if Leem were down there he’d already have been up here.”

Vardos sighed. “I observed an uncommon man there. Sergeant, would you make the trip up here?”

“Lieutenant, honestly not at first, but at some point, surely.”

Vardos met Sergeant Croyium’s eyes. “Find us another fall back position, and detail some of the men to get it ready. Make sure the position has good fields of fire, because perhaps not this time, but that time, they will hit us with everything they have.”

Sergeant Croyium stood up to him. “Do you remember what Leem said how they were armed. Fifty shots to our one?”

“Sergeant, there were at least a hundred of our men in the town. The firing lasted a half finger. We saw that there weren’t hardly more than a fifteen hundred men engaged from this side. I expect the same number landed east of town. Our men should have put up a better fight.”

“Lieutenant, three thousand men times fifty shots...one hundred fifty times ten thousand.”

Vardos laughed. “And you calculated that in your head, Sergeant?”

“Sir, I multiplied fifty times two and divided three thousand by two, then multiplied the result by a hundred. Easy to do in my head, sir.”

“Heh!” exclaimed Vardos. “You are a number sorcerer!”

“Sir, my teacher taught us shortcuts, saying that they would be valuable later in life. I was one of those who put a pile of horse plop in his chair and that got me kicked out of school. That was the worst day of my life when I realized what I’d given up for a pile of horse plop.”

“And my teachers despaired of teaching me to add two plus two. I did learn to read, but writing took many beatings,” Vardos said.

Vardos realized Sergeant Croyium’s silence for what it was.

Vardos spoke quickly. “Queen Elspeth teaches classes of aspiring lads and lasses. I’ll see you in one, after this is over.”

“Never forget fifty to one, Lieutenant. If we ever face them, we will all be killed.”

*** ** ***

The days dragged on, a moon quarter passed. The Mexicotál sent a patrol every day along the Coast Road, and the patrol never left the road and returned to the town before dark.

They could see troops drilling on the beaches close to town, and every day there were more troops, even though the ships were long gone. Just a few warships remained, and they stayed well away from the beach.

They reported everything they saw, but heard nothing in return but admonitions to stay unobserved and to watch everything they could.

On the eighth day, there was a rattle of drums early in the day, but they couldn’t see what was going on. Sergeant Croyium and Niallos vanished, and the sergeant was back by early afternoon.

“Niallos reports that the soldiers were all gathered in the town square. There, several man were speaking to them. Motivating the troops, although Niallos was too far away to hear what was said.

“Still, Niallos noticed that the men in the front ranks carried their weapons across their bodies, while some of the men in the rear were carrying their weapons over their shoulders. Again, he was to far away to be sure, but he thinks the weapons were different. The ones in the back looked to be standard Mexicotál rifles from the last war. He figures four of five have the new weapons. After the speeches, the troops were dismissed back to the barracks, and there were twice the usual number of cooking fires. In my opinion, they will march on the morrow.”

“And you have no idea which direction, Sergeant?” Vardos asked.

“No, sir. East or west or north.”

“Well, get a message off right now.”

Croyium was back before dusk. “They say to hold and an observe, sir.”

Vardos gave a hollow laugh. “Imagine how foolish I feel when I expected something different.”

“Sir, you have to know how important we have been. We have had eyes on them since they landed. We suspect that they will move tomorrow, and if not, we can send the word before Gamelin and Cambon move to meet them.”

“I keep telling myself that. But everything I learned growing up screams at me to attack and do what hurt I can.”

“You would vanish in moments, Lieutenant. We would vanish, as if we never were. Sir, we hurt them terribly every heartbeat that we watch them.”

Vardos doubled the watch and retired to an uneasy sleep.

In the middle of the night, Sergeant Croyium shook him awake. “Sir, Leem and some of the Olmecha are here.”

Sleep fled on fast wings. He stood and faced Leem and another man, very similar in appearance to the Ruthani scout.

“With me, Lieutenant, is Lieutenant Teozinte, the army of the Olmecha. He is a mortarman, but alas, only speaks mortars.”

The strange lieutenant bobbed his head and grinned.

Vardos nodded as well. What else was he supposed to do?

“The lieutenant needs a spot with a reverse slope, a mile from the Coast Road, west of here.”

“I know of several, Leem,” Croyium reported.

“Pick one. Guide the lieutenant there. His actions will only occur if they send the usual patrol west.”

“As you command, Leem,” and Sergeant Croyium motioned to the Olmechan officer and they vanished into the night.

“One of my men speaks both languages; they will make sure your observers are not wasted,” Leem said. He grinned evilly. “Lieutenant Teozinte has six guns. His guns will each fire three shots at the patrol and then disperse to alternate positions.

“They will break down to units of two tubes and harass so long as they are safe. Any one of them, who can fire safely, will take the God-King’s soldiers under fire. Eventually the God-King’s soldiers will realize it is harassing fire and quit, and continue to the palisade. As soon as they arrive, another mortar battery will fire at the palisade, without exposing themselves.

“The idea is for them is draw reinforcements from the main body.”

“What if the main body goes east?” Vardos asked.

“It is then sixty miles to the next town, and it is smaller than the one they took. If they go that way, there will be nothing for them to loot. Actually, in any direction they go, they will not have much luck foraging. The hope is that they will send more men to the palisade and that’s all.

“We estimate that there is a ten percent chance that they will go inland, but most likely they will head east, towards South Port. The army that defended South Port is marching here as fast as possible, and the army here starts east as soon as we get a direction for certain. The army at South March is on the way as well. This time it is us who will outnumber them five to one.”

“I’ve felt useless here,” Vardos said, despairing.

“Lieutenant! Anything but! Do you know how much trouble it was to keep the senior Zarthani general here from replacing you with a brigadier? A plum job! Now, we need to move two mortar sections closer to the town.”

“Sorry, sir,” said Vardos contritely.

Leem was serious. “We have twelve additional mortars at our disposal. We cannot afford to lose one mortar, much less two or three. We need to put the three closest to the town where we can range the docks. You are not our only source of intelligence. They have a ammunition bunker near the docks. We are to hit it, then fire at spots where we know officers congregate. As the mortar attacks on the palisade, the idea is to get our attackers to weaken their main thrust.”

II

Gryllos took the message from the picket that they had reached the last ferry crossing just before nightfall, and the local countess would be on hand to greet them. They had earlier crossed another, broader stream in mid-afternoon, with hardly a wasted motion. The wagons were waiting for them, as he’d ordered, with the horses separated.

He saw to the men, and then went to greet the countess. “I am sorry about the delay, Countess, but I had to see to the men.”

“I’ve commanded in battle; you need make no apology to me for simple prudence. Welcome to North Port.” She waved at the horses gathered to one side and loosely tied. “You don’t seem to appreciate the horses we’ve provided.”

“Countess, I’d wanted to talk to you in private.” There was an older man with her, and a fat man in a uniform he didn’t recognize. The older man was, Gryllos thought, a nobleman, he had that air about him.

“I have been remiss, Major. With me is Count Echanistra. You can talk freely in front of him.”

Gryllos wanted to die of embarrassment. The second or third most powerful of the Zarthani counts! He saluted the man. “Sir, I’m honored.”

“About the horses,” the countess went on.

“I got to thinking, Countess. If I wanted to mess up the Heavy Weapons Company, how could I do it? I decided that if I was diabolical, I’d provide them with gun-shy horses. Imagine my surprise, Countess, when I had my pickets fire off a shot a couple of miles in advance of the column and their picket sergeant’s mount–the only one close–jerked his bridle so savagely that the horse broke its neck, and nearly brained my sergeant with the tree that it brought down that it had been tied to. So I sent the horses and wagons ahead.”

“You don’t remember me, do you Major?” the countess said after studying Gryllos for several heartbeats.

“Countess? I’m sure I’d have remembered you if we met.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be recognized, Major. You led the Hostigi patrol at the Wagon Box Fight who left its remount post ahead of an attack by a great many of the God-King’s soldiers. Your Lieutenant Smyla had been trained by the Heavy Weapons Company. After the brave Captain Legios was wounded, you were seconded in command, but that was long after I’d gone on.”

“Of course I remember the battle, Countess. I apologize, but I don’t remember you.”

“I was hiding as a Zarthani private. You weren’t supposed to know me. Only Brigadier Markos and my bodyguard knew.”

“Ah! You were Noius! Your captain knew that there was something special about you! Not what, but he’d was told to sacrifice his entire company to keep you safe. I had the same orders as well. Brigadier Markos commanded, but he didn’t explain himself.”

“When I heard who commanded the Heavy Weapons Company, I asked the High King personally for your services.” The countess turned to the short, fat man. “Phelen, tell two hostlers to pick horses at random from those with Major Gryllos’ column. Take them out in the woods, but don’t tie them to a tree or hobble them. Fire a rifle; I want to hear their report soonest.”

“Have them stand well back,” Gryllos offered. “My sergeant said the horse went crazy.”

“See to it, Phelen.”

Count Echanistra spoke to the countess. “Noia, I assume you responded to King Freidal’s levy. We sent all our gun-shy horses to the ferry; we’re tripling the number of trips this summer, to support your shipbuilding efforts, and mine next winter.”

“I don’t want to speak out of turn about one of your officers, but the colonel at the ferry, Colonel Ahsuhl, wasn’t very appreciative. I think he sent a patrol after one of my scouts.”

“Appreciative, Major? What is there he should be appreciative for?” the senior count asked.

“Why, the defense of your king’s coastal village, and the destruction of two large ships and an attacking force of two hundred that attacked the village a moon quarter ago.”

“What!” It was a scream from the countess and a muttered oath from the count.

“You haven’t heard?” It seemed incredible to Gryllos that they hadn’t heard.

“Heavy Weapons Company engaged two large ships that were armed with many cannon. They put out a landing party as well. As you have learned, Countess, shotguns employed at short range have a deadly attack power. We destroyed those ships with our mortars! Gods! They burned like pyres! We killed more than two hundred men in the landing party, and afterwards sent a couple of prisoners south. And you heard nothing of this?”

“Nothing,” Count Echanistra said. He looked around. “No fog and no rain, Countess. May I have permission to move two divisions south through your lands to the ferry?”

“You may, Count.”

The count twirled a hand over his head, and an aide came running up. The count used the man’s broad back to write an order. “See that this is sent at once! A palm width until it’s received?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Tell all the stations along the line north to stand to. I want that time cut in half on the way back. I want an acknowledgment of the message, and I want those two divisions moving before midnight. I want to hear the instant those troops are moving.

“Countess Noia is the sole person who can authorize a message sent from the south to pass further north. No messages at all from my lands may go south past North Port.”

There was a shot in the distance, and eyes turned that way. Gryllos was matter-of-fact. “I call to your attention, honorable counts, to the horse lines.”

The shots hadn’t been a half mile away, Gryllos believed, but perhaps half that. The horse lines were filled with very nervous horses. A frightened horse sweats buckets, and it was clear to everyone around these horses were sweating heavily. Hostlers were being mustered to speak soothing words, to gentle the worst of them. Still not a man would venture near those lines. It would have been death if the horses went into full panic.

“Damn!” Count Echanistra said with great heat.

Countess Noia was more pragmatic. “Why didn’t they use this weapon against you?”

“I separated the Heavy Weapons Company into the teamsters and the company with our combat load of weapons and ammunition. I moved the company a couple of miles east of the wagons, Countess.” Gryllos paused, and then turned to one of lieutenants. “Have Jako and the woman come up.”

Jako came up, with the girl clinging to his arm. “Have you made any progress, Jako?”

“She mimed that her name is ‘Little Squirrel,’ Kaldi in Ruthani. At the stream, she motioned that the men who hurt her came from the sea.”

Jako was staring intently at the countess, his jaw set, the tendons in his neck showing. He was, Gryllos realized, furious.

Before he could speak, the countess did. “This young woman is terrified. I would like an explanation, Major.”

Count Echanistra laughed. “She’s terrified of you and me, Countess. She clings to the scout like he’s the man who saved her life.”

“Private Jako is my scout, Countess. He found the girl sword-slashed and unconscious, near where we crossed the first stream. She clings to him like he is her brother, although I’ve met his sister, and there is no comparison.”

“Ask where she’s from,” the countess asked.

“Countess, she does not speak. She cries, she hides her face against me, and in truth she doesn’t speak at all,” Jako offered.

“I don’t want to say the word, scout. Can you read and write?”

Gryllos answered faster than Jako. “The High King no longer allows promotion to private, Countess, to those who can’t read and write.”

“I don’t want to say the word. N-A-L-D-A-N. Ask her if she’s from that village.” The countess spelled the word.

Jako looked at Kaldi, his heart sinking. “The countess asks if you are from the village of Naldan, Kaldi?”

She screamed and toppled and was caught by Jako.

He eased her down, and loosened her tunic.

“Sword-slashed, eh?” Count Echanistra said. “A few days ago Countess Noia’s men found the village destroyed. Everyone was dead, and yes, while most had had been shot, some had been slashed with swords. The women had been raped, mutilated and then murdered. We have no idea where those who did it came from or fled to. It could have easily been the sea.”

“How many days ago was the attack?” Gryllos asked, his voice tight.

“Eight or ten nights ago,” the countess responded.

“Six nights ago would have been the day before they attacked us,” Gryllos stated. “Jako, when she awakes, tell her of our battle and the man you shot, waving a sword.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take her back to your tent. Do the same as yesterday.”

The private led the young woman off and Gryllos heaved a sigh. “I don’t know what she saw, but she’s terrified. It’s like she’s forgotten how to speak.”

The countess shrugged. “I can make a good guess of what she saw, and why she can’t speak. The Ruthani along the coast are peaceful fisher folk. I don’t know why, but they have a lot more children than most, and their old folks tend to live long lives. They have decently made cottages, and now and again they’ll put a young woman of husband-height alone in a loft.

“If she had to watch her family slaughtered and had to keep silent in order to stay alive...that would be enough to drive anyone from their senses.”

“I’m troubled, Countess,” Gryllos said, speaking slowly. “That colonel acted like he had something to hide, and if it was the destruction of this village, I’m forced to think he knew about it in advance.”

Roric was standing a few feet away and said, “Permission to speak, Major?”

“Of course, Roric.”

“I’m a old soldier and I’ve seen many sword cuts. If this village was slaughtered more than a moon quarter ago, then where did the girl get the slash? It was not that old when it was stitched, and that was yesterday. I’m thinking that maybe the patrol had more than one purpose...to kill any survivors, as well as catch our scout.”

Count Echanistra had been silent for a finger width. “Every word I hear damns Colonel Ahsuhl. He is one of my important barons, having great stands of tall, straight pine and fir. Ideal for ship building.”

“How many soldiers does he command, Count?” Gryllos asked.

“Four companies at the ferry; all his men. The better part of a division at Echanistra. This is not good; I have three divisions there myself, but I’ve just ordered two south. I don’t know which my son will send, but it doesn’t matter. Leaving Ahsuhl’s men in Echanistra would likely be a catastrophe, and dangerous if they are sent here.”

“Cancel the movement order, sir. Tell them to stand to instead. Send a code message to your son and tell him of the treachery. We will simply have to be on guard here,” Gryllos advised.

Gryllos waved at the wide stream that ran down to the sea. “You have a proper moat, Countess!”

“There is another ferry about five miles upstream.”

“Pull them back to the north bank, prepare the ferries to be burned if they attack there. How many troops do you have here?” the major said.

“A full division, but our divisions are smaller than the High King’s. Our King modeled ours after your Sixth Mounted Rifles. A few more than a thousand men, seven companies. We have only slow, horse-drawn artillery that mostly stays at home in fixed batteries,” the countess said. “In truth, even our best horse-drawn artillery doesn’t work well here as the ground is too wet. All of the light guns are in the south.

“This is going to be a nightmare.”

The countess turned to Count Echanistra. “I assume you will send a report of these events south to the king. As will I. Major, you said prisoners were sent south?”

“Yes, Countess.”

“Under Ahsuhl’s charge?”

“Yes, Countess. I think we can assume that those prisoners aren’t going to be delivered to the king. I don’t know if they are dead or on their way home, but I’m pretty sure they aren’t on their way south,” Gryllos said.

From the growing dark Count Echanistra’s aide returned. “The message has been sent, sir. They will send someone with the acknowledgement.”

Echanistra laughed. “Now, go back and countermand the movement order. Everybody in the north is to stand to and await further orders. You are sending from the station on this side of the river, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wait a moment.” The next message written on the aide’s back took a fat finger width. When given to the aide, the aide blinked. The message was very short.

“Thirty letters, my lord?”

“Eyes only to my son.”

Count Echanistra looked at the others. “I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting the High King face to his face. He sent me some hints on codes via royal messenger. My son and I have a private code, known only to us. I’ve alerted him to Ahsuhl’s possible treason. I can’t accuse him directly, not just yet.”

Gryllos laughed. “The High King, Duke Tuck and the Countess Judy are very careful. When I was a captain I carried a message from Countess Judy to King Xyl of the Olmecha. It was a simple message, congratulating him on the marriage of his sister to Colonel Legios. King Xyl clapped me on the back, after I gave it to him. ‘You think yourself ill-used, Captain, for such a simple thing!’

“He didn’t tell me how it was done, but he carefully heated the message over a candle, revealing writing between the lines...the true message. ‘My kingdom once again owes your king a great debt. The errands of kings, princes and nobles are not always what they seem!’ he told me.”

Countess Noia laughed. “I’ve met Lady Becky. She teaches at the High King’s Academy in Hostigos, and she’s one of the foremost scholars in the land even though she is the same age as Countess Judy. She told me that there are a number of liquids you can use for that. Urine is one.”

Gryllos flushed, but she laughed. “There is a tart yellow fruit that grows in the lands of the Olmecha called the ‘lemon.’ Its juice also serves.”

“I need to talk to the ferry master and see if I can arrange a night passage,” Count Echanistra told them, getting back to the topic at hand.

Countess Noia shook her head. “Uncle, he will never agree. It will be a dark night at first, and it would be incredibly dangerous. You might tell everyone that it was on your own head, but the spring melt is in considerable force, and there will not be a way to see a large snag far enough away to avoid it. Better to cross with the first group of Major Gryllos’ men tomorrow. We’ll send the horses in small groups last.”

“I don’t suppose we can send them back south just yet,” the count replied. “Although putting that many gun shy horses in a corral at once will be a risk.”

“If Ahsuhl comes this way, I may need to move mounted infantry rapidly. I can’t justify using them for Major Gryllos’ men, but mounted infantry should be able to use them once,” the countess said.

“Countess,” Gryllos said, “those horses are a mortal danger. They are like a bursting charge of a mortar round. You could lose the effectiveness of any unit mounted on them. Put enough of them in one place and even men who got safely off would be at risk from another of the crazed beasts.”

The countess’ man Phelen had returned and had been listening. “One of the hostlers told me an interesting story just now, Countess.”

“And that would be what, Phelen?”

“His brother has a similar job at the ferry. Colonel Ahsuhl had them making some of the already gun-shy horses even more so. When he asked why, he was told that the horses would be left in a group, to be captured by any attackers, and a few gunshots would panic them and throw the attack into chaos. He might be just a hostler, but he’s not stupid. He said they were unlikely to be attacked, and any attackers would be more intent on scattering horses rather than stealing them. It didn’t make sense. The lieutenant in charge of the remounts told him that wasn’t something for the likes of him to worry about.”

Count Echanistra spoke to the countess, and then to Phelen. “Loan me Phelen, Countess. I want him present to the run the signals.”

“Yes, Count,” the countess said. “With your permission, I’d like your leave to order the signal posts further south to retire to North Port. Ahsuhl knows Major Gryllos has arrived at North Port. Surely he believes the major would recount his victory sooner rather than later.”

“Of course, Countess.”

“And Phelen, turn out triple the watch in the city, then send to the Old Road Ferry that no further military traffic may pass either way without Count Echanistra’s authenticators, and that they should retire to the north side of the river.”

The man bobbed his head, “Yes, Countess. Lord, if you would follow me.”

The two men hurried away. The countess pulled on Gryllos arm, dragging him into the shadows. “Major, a ship of my own is out there, far out there. I don’t know how far, but I expect it is far just now. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t burn it like a pyre.”

“Of course, Countess. Are there any identifying marks?”

She laughed. “I heard about your countess’ favorite weapon. I put a symbol for a shovel on the main sail.”

Gryllos was serious. “I saw no symbols on the ships. One ship, I can take a chance against. Two are more problematical.”

“Do the best you can; he is important: he is exploring the islands to the southwest to find where their bases are. And there is only one ship.”

“I’ll the warn the gun crews, Countess. The gun captains never discuss targeting. Targeting is one of the High King’s and Duke Tuck’s greatest secrets.”

The countess nodded, and turned and walked away into the darkness.

Not for the first time the crushing weight of his responsibility tugged at Gryllos, but as crushing as that was, it didn’t begin to compare with responsibility of the nobles. He was responsible for a hundred fifty men; at the peak, six hundred or so. Countess Noia had thousands and Countess Judy had hundreds of thousands. Duke Tuck and Count Echanistra had even more. No one had any idea how many the High King was responsible for.

Gryllos looked into the darkness, the blackness pressing down on him. I will measure up, he thought. I will measure up! And if I can lift any of the weight from the shoulders of his seniors, he would. 


	14. There is Trouble -- But Not in River City

I

Gamelin was consumed with the preparations to set two hundred and twenty thousand men on the road. For three days he had worked day and night alongside General Cambon. He had come to respect the Olmechan general, who was at home ordering large numbers of troops around.

When the soldiers were all moving, General Cambon was quick to break down his staff and get them on the road as well. Faithful Vosper was there to support Gamelin, even to getting his vastly shrunken staff ready to move out.

Vosper was brisk. “We will meet them halfway to South Port. We will have at least two and a half times their numbers. That said, we need to be really careful.”

“What if our forces are late?” Gamelin asked.

“We will reach the town of Kindos soon. If they are past there, we will come up on their rear and prevent a retreat. Lord Tuck has been explicit in how to face enemies that can fire many times to our once.”

“What if they have more fireseed than we imagine?”

Vosper laughed. “Their ships cannot contain as much fireseed as they will fire in a brisk afternoon. The secret to beating them is to keep our heads down and let them waste their fireseed on rocks.”

“And if they close? Are our men supposed to die, defenseless?”

Vosper explained what he meant and Gamelin nodded. “That is a good plan, allowing our men to break off at need, making the Mexicotál advance cautiously, and use up their ammunition. With the added benefit every step they take off their axis of advance is a step they have to retrace. We will have to scout locations carefully.”

Later Vosper explained the plan to General Cambon who was even more skeptical than Gamelin had been. “General Denethon drew most of the men who survived after Three Hills. They are used to strange orders that don’t seem to make any sense at first. They’ve been shown that Denethon is one of the best generals alive. My men, alas, are not veterans of the war and not, as you say, blooded.”

It was Vosper, hard as long-time sergeants were wont to be, who made the real point. “Those of us from Outpost heard orders that made no sense. Thirty men to attack fifteen thousand? We thought Tuck was making a brag. I was on that march home afterwards. I saw the men staring at other, lost in wonder. I didn’t hear the whispers but I knew they were there. We had succeeded at insane odds!

“Then we did it again. A hundred against a thousand! It was crazy to think we could win, but win we did. Then, we won a third time when they came once more! Only six to one against us! We shot them off the hill and sent them scurrying away in fear. I do not mean to denigrate our allies, the Zarthani, they were brave enough, and in truth they kept coming as long as they were able.

“Tell your men that Gamelin, the friend and student of Tuck, Duke of Mexico, who beat the God-King’s armies as easily as he beat King Freidal, leads us. That you have reviewed his plans and they are sound. If they are steadfast they will have glorious victories to brag about. Run, do something different than ordered, that will give us all to demons. Tell them to remember their Olmechan cities, their lost wives and above all, their lost children. That is our enemy’s plan for the rest of us. And it that isn’t enough, remind them who Gamelin’s wife is.”

Cambon held up his hands as if warding off a blow. “I will tell them all that and more. Still the soldiers are reluctant to adopt new tactics until they see them work with their own eyes.”

Gamelin gave a low, nasty laugh, running his hands through his white hair. “I will remind them that they lost and we won because we were willing to adopt new ways and they weren’t. The High King used the new ways and he lost fifteen hundred men when he destroyed a million men under the God-King.”

II

Oaxnosh, a brigadier in the God-King’s army, stood in front of his division of ten thousand men, standing ready a half palm width before they were due to march. His men were just behind the van division, a thousand of whom would march a mile in front of their army.

He turned one last time to survey his men. The serried ranks, the new rifles, resting now on the ground. His heart swelled with pride. A full half of his division had fallen prey to the sickness of the sea, that had left them shaken and weak. He laughed bitterly to himself. They had sailed several times in practice. Men with cast iron stomachs had been transferred to the assault division.

His friend of years, Huixla, had laughed at his pride that he had one of those cast iron stomachs. “You angling for command of the assault division? Just how long do you think their commander will stay alive?”

It had seemed academic until the attack on the Zarthani town. There hadn’t been many casualties, but the division brigadier had been one of them. The assault division wasn’t critical any more, and a junior brigadier had been appointed to it. Still, Oaxnosh was aware that the second division in the line of march wasn’t the safest place to be. Huixla hadn’t said anything about that, but he was content commanding one of the line divisions, that would form in their center if they met a big clump of Zarthani soldiers.

He’d only talked to Huixla once since the in-taking. All his friend had said afterward was his most enigmatic comment ever. “The storerooms of the town were empty. Be careful out there in front, my friend.”

He’s thought long and hard about what Huixla had said. He’d been aware that the plan was to live off the land as much as possible. Surely all of the storerooms wouldn’t be empty!

He stood in the warm early morning sun, idly thinking. He knew that even brigadiers weren’t encouraged to think for themselves. He knew his job description was to be the ‘fingers of the Captain-General’s hand.’ Still, this was the first time since they had come ashore where he had a moment to think.

The storerooms were empty? He considered the town they had captured. It was close to a considerable agricultural area and there had been quite a few simple fishing boats that they had sunk in the attack. If the storerooms had been emptied ahead of the attack, they were in trouble...there was a major traitor among the priests. Why hadn’t the Zarthani defended the town with more men? He’d been a little surprised that there had been so few soldiers defending it, but the Captain-General had explained that this was a small town, far from their enemies so it had made sense that it wasn’t heavily garrisoned, which also argued that the attack had really been a surprise.

The Captain-General’s staff moved forward to just ahead of Oaxnosh’s division, which was where they would start the march east. In a few palm widths they’d move further back from the van and stay there. Whistles shrilled and the first men of the van moved forward.

It happened suddenly. There was a single shot and the whistles screamed a halt. A dozen companies attacked a hill to the north, after a fusillade of shots. Two finger widths later Oaxnosh could see the soldiers reach the top of the hill.

The shots were much fainter, but there were a dozen of them. A thousand men vanished over the hill and Oaxnosh felt unease.

Nothing further happened, so Oaxnosh called his division sergeant forward. “Go up and find out what’s happening.” 

Sergeant Quizan shrugged. “Sir, no one knows how soldiers’ rumors fly through the army, but it is very fast. General Hazlem of the van division turned to face his men and yelled, ‘Forward!’ An instant later a Zarthani sharpshooter shot him dead.”

The sergeant swallowed and shrugged expressively. “I was a sergeant under Captain-General Upharshim in the attack on Outpost. It was worth the life of an officer if he failed to attack the Hostigi snipers with less than a half company–five hundred men. The Ruthani were not too much trouble at the start, but they quickly learned from the Hostigi.”

He waved as the men were coming back over the hill. “Not just yet, but soon, sir, never get out of sight of the main body without a thousand men at your side.”

Half the morning had been wasted before they moved again. The Captain-General had moved further back in the column and a great many of the elaborate officer plumes were sprinkled next to the road. Oaxnosh took from this that the van commander had sported a plume, although no official report was given to the officers.

Oaxnosh thought this was a really bad idea. The army had started two, nearly three, palm widths late. If he knew what had happened, the other officers knew and the men certainly knew. Oaxnosh was aware his position was relatively secure–his great uncle had been Captain-General Oaxhan, who led the attack on Three Hills. The stories were confused, but one thing was certain–he had been slain by the traitor to the Gods, the man who had later killed the God-King.

Still, his uncle had had considerable political clout and some of it survived.

III

Jako returned to the squad area; he was tired and looking forward to sleep. Instead he met Roric, who was behaving strangely.

The sergeant stopped him and just stood there in front of Jako, looking at him. And not just a few heartbeats either! Finally the sergeant huffed a sigh. “I’m going to ask you do something terribly dangerous, Jako.”

“It seems to me that you have before; I don’t want to be rude, but that goes with being a soldier.”

“There are big dangers and smaller ones. Kaldi wants to marry you.”

Jako thought he was hearing things. The sergeant bulled ahead, heedless of Jako’s surprise. “Not only that, she wants to enlist in the High King’s army; like a lot of others she wants to kill a great many of the people who killed her family.”

Jako grimaced and said the first thing that came into his head, “So she’s talking again?”

Roric grinned. “It’s not very efficient but she knows Zarthani trade-sign, and there is a woman of the countess’ who does as well. It’s round-about, but works. The countess’ representative asked her about the army she wants to join. And the man she wants to marry.”

“There’s got to be a rule against soldiers marrying! Why me?” Jako was steadily getting more desperate.

“The High King, Grand Marshal Hestophes, Duke Tuck, and Countess Judy are all married to others in the army. They wouldn’t dream of not allowing common soldiers to do what they can; there are rules, but they are just common sense. Each person has their own duty, for example.”

“Why me?” Jako gargled again.

“She said that if she could trust someone who didn’t know her to save her life, she could probably trust him with anything.”

“Could you explain to her about rancid bear grease? That wasn’t my finest hour.”

“Talk to her yourself. Jako you are a brave man; you’ve exceeded my expectations. You are getting close to being eligible for corporal.”

“Corporal? Tertium is a dozen years older than I am! He’d make a far better corporal than I would.”

“Jako, let me tell you the facts of life in the army. Do you know what a trooper does?”

Jako shook his head.

“He does whatever he’s told. He doesn’t take responsibility; he doesn’t make decisions. Ruthani aren’t like that. After corporal you advance as far and as fast as you can. If I’m any judge of men, and I like to think I am, you are going to be promoted to a higher rank. You think about things.”

“Rancid bear grease!”

“No one is perfect, Jako,” Roric told him. 

“Kaldi is a nice girl; considering how many women I know who aren’t that nice, you could easily do worse. Marry her. See if you can convince her that revenge is sweeter carried out by your kids,” the veteran sergeant said.

“I didn’t rescue her to take advantage of her. I’m not like that,” Jako said.

“I understand that a lot of Ruthani women enter into arranged marriages. I’d bet there are just as many arranged marriages for men as well as women. Besides, not liking women is a worse handicap than not being able to hold your water.”

Jako found his tent and Kaldi. She looked at him defiantly, her chin jutting up. He was sorry, but he laughed. He signed as well as spoke, “Do you really want to marry someone as stupid as me? I tried to sneak into a palace once covered with rancid bear grease. You could smell me a mile upwind! Just now I assumed we couldn’t understand each other because you don’t talk–when I know trade sign language like I know my sister.”

Kaldi cocked her head to one side before she nodded yes. She made the sign for grease then, shook her “no” and signed “home.”

“Can I ask you not to join the army?”

She shook her head no, then signed that she had watched and heard her parents die, her brothers and sisters die, and she wanted to do something unspeakable to those who had a hand in it.

He had long since decided and he gripped both her shoulders in his hands. “I can’t marry without permission. I will have to ask.” She leaned her forehead against his chest for a finger width. She looked back up and signed “Please.”

That broke his heart. “I’ll ask first thing in the morning.”

*** ** ***

Gryllos had fallen right to sleep; it was a measure of his attention to duty to wake right up when Jumper shook him a little before midnight. He stood officer of the guard duty frequently as an example to the men and to relieve the pressure on his junior officers. He only had two and if they were going to be of any use he had to give them a rest. There were only three officers with the column...not half enough.

By leavening them with three senior sergeants and himself, the duty rosters had them standing two palm width watches four days of five.

It was surprisingly chill, and he welcomed a mug of hot sassafras tea that warmed his insides. He was an experienced officer so he didn’t sit by the fire staring into it. He stood near a watch post deep in darkness and saved his night vision. Jumper loyally stood ready to run any errand.

The night was quiet. His watch sergeant reported that the countess and the count talked late, then they had retired for the night.

He thought about the countess. There was no doubt she was homely, but she had steel in her backbone. He thought that counted for more in the great scheme of things than her looks. She had survived when her brother turned his coat. She had survived an attack by the God-King’s soldiers when her supply train had come under attack.

She had also survived an attack by more than a hundred renegade Ruthani that had killed one of the High King’s counts and one of his brigadiers.

He heard a sound in the night and the sergeant who had the watch tonight crouched down next to him. “The pickets report that a half company of mounted infantry have moved in behind us and are getting set, maybe fifty men,” the sergeant whispered.

“Jumper, have everyone stand to. Do it quietly, then tell the count and countess. They’ll want to move from their tents at least.”

The young man was up and hurried away. “Where are they deploying? A half company...that makes no sense,” he asked the sergeant.

“About a half mile away, along the track that leads inland,” the sergeant told him.

He had been taught at the High King’s Military Academy that if you guessed an enemy’s battle plan right, it was like having extra troopers. He’d fought a pitched battle where he’d been sure of the enemy’s plan and he’d had only one man wounded in the initial exchange and killed a third of more than six hundred attackers.

He hadn’t done nearly as well after that because his enemy was intent on besieging them, but the initial fighting had evened the battle up, and he’d had enough men to outlast the siege. He grinned now, when the sergeant sketched what he knew of the enemy positions.

“They will probably attack just before dawn,” Gryllos said confidently. “This is a diversion for something else. Everyone is to be under cover when the attack comes. They’ll probably give us a couple of volleys and then attempt to break contact. We’ll give them a volley on the heels of their second volley with our rifles, then independent fire. Keep a third of the men at the mortars, ready to fire as needs be.”

The large man, Phelen, who was one of the countess’s aides, sank to his side. “My mistress wants to know what you intend. We can’t reinforce you at night.”

“She and the count should hide in the broken ground by the river. I think they are going to try to spook the horses and when the confusion is at a peak, ride east to escape. Evidently they don’t understand just how dangerous it is to stop shooting at Hostigi soldiers. If I had more men, we’d ambush them along the road as well so we’ll settle for killing most of them.”

“We should ignore the horses?”

“As much as possible. It would help if the rope lines along the river can be released quickly. If they get in the water those horses will have something more immediate to worry about.”

“Ha! That is a good idea! I will see to it!” The man vanished back into the darkness. Gryllos smiled to himself. Phelen looked dim-witted, fat, and slow. Yet when he wanted to he could move fast and clearly was intelligent. He was devoted to the countess. Gryllos’s mind raced over a review of his plan and if there was anything he’d forgotten.

A palm width later he lamented at how easy it had been the first time. There had been no time for doubts, there were preparations that had to be made that had consumed his attention. Now he had to wait and the wait was excruciating. Someone sank to the ground next to him. There wasn’t enough light to see her face but he recognized the countess’s profile.

“Countess, you are too far forward. They teach us from our first day at the High King’s Academy that bullets on a battlefield don’t respect rank.”

She laughed low. “They taught us at the Sea Academy that cannonballs respect rank even less. Do they have cannon?”

“No, but they have rifles.”

“If the common people see their leaders are there, they are given good heart. Plus in a sea battle a leader needs to know what your enemy is doing and potentially going to do. You need to watch a battle very carefully.”

The watch sergeant reported, “They are moving forward into position to attack, sir. It will be dawn soon.”

“Tell everyone to get set, I’ll give the order to commence,” Gryllos said. He turned to the countess. “There’s no point in ordering you to keep your head down...but in the first moments that they shoot at us all you’ll be doing is risking your life.”

The countess laughed. “If I stick my head up too soon, Phelen is close by. He will sit on me.”

“It sounds like he will be a bad influence on my junior aide...he’s a very enthusiastic Lost Ruthani.”

“Our people are very devoted to us,” the countess told him with a hint of sadness in her voice. “I had a friend in North Port that my brother murdered with the rest. I seek to avenge him–and many other friends–on our enemies.”

Gryllos turned brisk. “I think this is a diversion for the rest of them to escape over the other ferry. Perhaps they don’t know that you’ve stymied that. Still, Countess, it is not my intention to pursue over ground we can’t scout first.”

“Of course, Major. Not and attack superior numbers, that’s inviting an ambush. A plan suggests itself. The only reason they would want to divert our attention in because they don’t know the ferry is on the wrong side of the river and won’t respond to calls to let them cross.

“Ahsuhl may make an attempt to come back this way and try to force this ferry. Kill as many of these attackers as you can, and advance, but not far. Just enough to panic the survivors. My division will take two palm widths after first light to cross. Ahsuhl won’t expect them. Later this morning we can show a traitor how roughly we handle such as them.”

“And if they get behind us, Countess, and attack your town?”

She laughed nastily. “I have a division of trained soldiers to use here. King Freidal also sent me two thousand former serfs and slaves and their wives to be citizens of the new North Port.

“Every last one of the men musters as militia and about half the women. They are all armed with repeating rifles and stand behind a forty-foot palisade. Every last one of my people understands that those who attack would see them bound in servitude again. If Ahsuhl goes against them–unless he can run very fast–he’s seen his last sunset.”

“Countess, I had no idea. It would be, perhaps, best for him to retreat further east.” 

“Further east are villages of the Northern Ruthani. When the word that our enemies have been attacking isolated Ruthani villages reaches them, they’ll be hunting them too.”

Gryllos was thinking when a bird chirped about fifty yards forward. “They come, Countess. Even I will have my head down the first time they fire.” With that he did lower his head and squashed the desire to look anyway.

He saw the countess move a few feet and then hide behind a stump.

A whistle shrilled a few hundred yards away and was followed by a rifle volley. The fire was by ranks and kept up steadily for a few heartbeats, then stopped while Ahsuhl’s men reloaded. There was a ragged single volley in response and Gryllos grinned.

There were shouts as Ahsuhl’s men rose and charged forward. As Gryllos had known, it was a serious mistake when you stop shooting at Hostigi soldiers. Bam! Bam! Came two shotgun volleys, then his men switched back to rifles. There were just a few rifle shots in reply and Gryllos steeled himself.

“Weapons Company! Advance to the enemy position!”

He was up then, crouched low and rushed forward to where the enemy had set up. 

Lieutenant Menardes was there ahead of him and reported. “I don’t think there were any survivors, Major. We had a hundred men shooting shotguns against maybe fifty.”

Countess Noia wasn’t far. “Shotguns are like that. Search the bodies and see if you can find any orders.”

A finger width later Roric appeared. “Major, we have a prisoner. You and the countess should hear his story.”

The two of them followed Roric to where a soldier was being held. Gryllos eyed him carefully. The man had a fair complexion and hair the color of a chestnut horse. Blondes were common in Hostigos; not so this color of hair.

“Tell my officer what you told me,” Roric said addressing the prisoner.

The man drew himself up and addressed Gryllos. “I am a traveler from afar. When I was fifteen summers I was turned out by my father; I had three older brothers. I had an urge to travel in the direction of the rising sun. Honestly it would have been death for me to stay to contest my father’s decision. That was four years ago. I am an honest man who is good with a blade.

“I mainly worked as a caravan guard, always heading east. A year ago I reached a body of water that was too big to swim across. I took a job as guard on a ship. When I arrived in this place I was told that Lord Ahsuhl was the person to see for a job where I could go further east.”

He spat on the ground. “If I ever again meet the man who told me that, I’ll gut him. Ahsuhl is a cruel tyrant and easily the worst commander I’ve ever had. He plots against everyone and anyone. He lives for his plots. Once you signed with him, you were his for all time. Or so he believed.”

The prisoner nodded at the countess. “You must be Countess Noia. Ahsuhl schemes against his betters so that he may gain advantage; he schemes against his inferiors to keep them down; he schemes against his peers to advance himself over them.

“I took Lieutenant Denisos under my wing. He was young and eager to learn the profession of your Wolf God. Ahsuhl threw him away without heed. I told Denisos we should just fire a few shots at you and then withdraw. Ahsuhl had commanded him to carry his attack home. I begged, I pleaded with him.

“To no avail.”

The man sighed and gestured at one of the broken bodies not far away. “He was a good man, wasted. I stayed down because I heard that if I gave my oath to your Wolf God, I’d be treated fairly. Gods! All I want to do is keep going east!” 

Noia said something in a language Gryllos didn’t recognize. The man winced and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I haven’t those words since I left home!” the man said.

“The High King has a guest who speaks that tongue. When her master died in battle, they launched her in his funeral boat to accompany him into death.”

“You know my people, then?” the prisoner asked.

“I know of one person,” the countess told him. “Have you come across people who are black as night in your travels?”

“No, nor have I heard of such. I’ve met yellow men and women with almond-slanted eyes. People who are red, as the Ruthani and brown like some I served with here and there. The brown people are mainly from the south.”

Noia regarded him without speaking for many heartbeats. Noia started to say something, but Gryllos was quicker. A knife appeared in the major’s hand and he held it to the man’s throat. “You are undone, spy!”

Everyone around the major was startled, except Gryllos and the man.

The man said calmly, lifting his chin. “If you think me false, strike me dead.”

“What is your name, soldier?” the countess asked him without lifting her voice.

“Dirzed, my lady.”

“Phelen!” she called and Phelen appeared almost at once.

“Take this man across the river at first light. See to his immediate needs.”

Phelen raised an eyebrow. “As you wish, my Countess.”

“And tell Count Echanistra I need to speak to him.”

“Yes, Countess.”

The two men went off and Gryllos sent his people to collect weapons and any intelligence they might find.

“You are a perceptive man, Major. I noticed that before.”

Gryllos shrugged and the countess laughed. “Now, Major I will tell you a secret known only to the High King, his General Verkan, and myself. This Dirzed is high in the High King’s councils. I do not want to call undue attention to him. Phelen will find him insufferable, and I will ask you to trust him and take him into your company. Can you do that for me?”

Gryllos nodded. “I would do anything for you, Countess.”

Noia laughed. “Are you flirting with me, Major?”

Gryllos blushed from the tips of his toes to the ends of his hairs.

The countess laughed even harder. “No one has ever flirted with me before. I find I like it. You have my permission to do it again at a more suitable time.”

She must have seen Sergeant Roric coming back, Gryllos thought. He tried to compose himself to take the sergeant’s report.

“We killed the lot of them, sir, except the one man who stayed down.” Roric looked around. “I don’t see him, sir. I thought he’d been brought back to you.”

“The countess sent him across the river. He appears to be who he says he is.”

“Not very brave,” Roric opined.

Countess Noia spoke up. “If you knew what was coming, Sergeant, would you have stuck your head up?”

Roric shuddered. “I want to retire to a tavern in old Hostigos, my wife the sole heir of the tavern owner. One wonders why one was smart and the others were stupid.”

“He said his officer was young and had been commanded to stand and attack. No matter what he advised, the young man did as ordered,” Gryllos added.

“What a waste! Since that misbegotten bastard Helmoth, we teach our junior officers better!” Roric said, slapping his fist into his other palm.

“Indeed so, Sergeant. The countess thinks that Colonel Ahsuhl will soon learn that the way north is blocked. She thinks he will return to try to force a crossing here. Send our scout out to find a likely spot to ambush them. Send the woman as well, have Jako show her what to do.”

“Jako spent the night outside the tent again last night. They were both in the reserve,” Roric said.

“Jako is an honorable man, Sergeant,” Gryllos said. “But the woman hasn’t been trained as yet. Keep them in the reserve when there is a fight, but first have them scout forward.”

“Yes, sir. At least one good soldier like Jako needs to be in reserve. He’s corporal material.”

“He’s like his brother-in-law. Officer material,” Gryllos contradicted.

“He’s Ruthani, sir. The Ruthani have that idea that they can’t be promoted above junior lieutenant.”

“What is this?” the countess asked.

Gryllos explain about Tazi, and that necessitated more history. The countess rubbed her chin. “Promote this Tazi.”

“Eh? What did you say, Countess? Tazi has been dead for years,” Gryllos said.

“She was the aide to Tanda Havra. A duchess! That’s the duty of a much more senior officer than a junior lieutenant! She was the executive officer of a countess. Phelen resented the hell out of only being promoted major, he thinks he should be a colonel or brigadier.”

“Like I said, Countess, she’s dead.”

“An unimportant detail! People are often given posthumous promotions in honor of their service all the time! King Freidal says he owes my county any favor I ask. I’ll ask for this. Hostigos says they will honor Zarthani ranks.” The countess looked around and broke out laughing.

“I don’t understand, Countess, but it will be as you command,” Gryllos said.

Count Echanistra had joined them. “The fog is lifting, Major. The Gods have spoken.”

In a short while, ferry-load after ferry-load of hardened troops started to appear. Gryllos was busy working with Phelen, first to place the main ambush and then to prepare it further.

As such things happen, Count Ahsuhl appeared on the north side of the river. Gryllos wished they had crossed as their mortars could barely range the town from where they were.

Except, even the countess had seriously underestimated the ferocity of the defenders and the lack of will among Ahsuhl’s troop. Perhaps three thousand were on the walls and they fired continuously into the attack. The attack withered and died, and those on the walls never relented.

The attack reversed, and there was a single shot from the south side of the river. “Who fired?” Gryllos demanded.

It was the woman, Kaldi. She stood proudly defiant. “I shot at the man who killed my family! The man who cut me!”

“Who?” Jako asked. “Point him out.”

“Colonel Ahsuhl,” Countess Noia said when she saw where Kaldi was pointing.

“You’ll not weep if he is dead?” Jako replied.

“No,” Count Echanistra said. “Only that he was ever born. Except he’s a mile away.”

Jako’s rifle barked before anyone could move.

“Gods!” Count Echanistra said a few heartbeats later. “Ahsuhl is down!”

“Probably a stray shot from the garrison,” Phelen observed.

Gryllos growled something about strange coincidences and Countess Noia laughed. “It will be easy to tell. Hostigi rifle bullets are smaller than Zarthani bullets. We’ll cut the body open and find out. Hopefully, Ahsuhl is only wounded. It would be a shame to cut up the body of a traitor already dead.”

In the meantime, the attack had been stalled before, with groups of soldiers trying to retreat in an orderly fashion. Now, the attack dissolved as the soldiers threw caution and care to the winds as they raced away as fast as they could.

Kaldi was slow to realize that Jako had done what she herself had tried. 

She grabbed his arm and signed, “Did you hit him?”

“I believe so, Kaldi.”

“You can wear rancid bear grease on our wedding night.”

When someone translated it, everyone roared with laughter, but it was Gryllos who had the last word. “You might approve, but the rest of us won’t!”

The signal station had been signaling steadily for a finger width, with a continual stream of messages coming to Count Echanistra and Countess Noia. “Twelve dead, Countess,” Phelen reported. “Thirty-five wounded. One of the dead was the militia colonel, my lady, Baron Kethmos.”

A runner came and handed Phelen another message. “The good news is that Ahsuhl survived, but you don’t get to cut the bullet from him though, it was through-and-through,” Phelen told them.

“I have a few questions to ask of the man,” Count Echanistra said darkly.

“You’ll have to hurry, my lord. He is gut shot.”


	15. Oaxnosh

I

The day passed quickly, even though they had barely covered ten miles. Oaxnosh oversaw the siting of his portion of the camp, then walked a short distance from the nearest guard post.

Huixla appeared, cheerful as ever. “You heard about the brigadier?”

“Yes. Sad, but not significant,” he told his friend.

“When his soldiers topped that ridge, they were taken under fire as well, but that time it was a dozen snipers.”

“We should have killed many of them,” Oaxnosh said loyally.

“My friend, three thousand shots were fired. The only Zarthani injured were those laughing too hard at us. They fired one shot each and hurried across the next ridge. Our bullets were wasted against empty rock.”

Oaxnosh knew what the official line was and hated himself for speaking it. “Cowards!”

“Oaxnosh, we have rifles that fire fifty times without reloading. We’ve long known that the Hostigi have rifles that fire six times without reloading, and it is not unreasonable to assume that the Hostigi have shipped some to those to the Zarthani. If you go over a hill with a thousand man, fifty shots or not, but you face twenty thousand with only six shots...how will you fare?”

“In other words, I should have a care. I will, Huixla.” His friend grinned at him and vanished into the night. Thinking about it later, he’d not heard any challenges. Abruptly, Oaxnosh realized that Huixla was an enemy of the God-King, his priests and undoubtedly the foreign god Styphon as well.

Instead of telling anyone of his suspicions, Oaxnosh held his council. His division sergeant had made suspicious statements as well. So, for that matter, had he. The fact of the matter was that he had been dubious from the first appearance of the priests, both of the God-King and the foreigners. They had a cure for the plague, but where had the plague come from in the first place? Enough men and women fleeing the plague had arrived in Becal. And indeed the priests saved the vast majority of such.

The vast majority of the Heartland hadn’t been guilty of any crime except desiring to live in peace. Everyone had known that fewer and fewer young women were climbing the pyramids...they were going to the priests instead. If anything would invoke the wrath of the gods, it would have to be faithless priests, not the common folk who, at the worst, had been misled.

No one expected much of the slaves and serfs. And in truth, there had been a growing number of artisans who were also strangely exempt from sacrifice even though they shouldn’t have been. Only the priests, the nobles, and the military were officially exempt from sacrifice.

He fell into a fitful sleep, to be awoken before dawn by his servant. The officer’s call was out in the open, and the Captain-General’s voice was loud enough for nearly all of his officers to hear.

“We lost a half day on the march yesterday. That must not be allowed to happen again. The plan was to have hundred men in the flank guard, but I think we will put up one of the new divisions instead.”

There were five of the old-style divisions in the column, and one hundred and fifty of the new, thousand man divisions. Oaxnosh commanded one of the old divisions, which was, he supposed an honor bestowed on him for having a famous uncle.

“Brigadier Twixla will command the flankers. The rest of the orders remain the same. Before we march today, you will see that all of your soldiers are inspected and see to it the switch on their rifles is set to ‘one.’ Company punishment for any who have it otherwise. I’ll repeat...only a captain or higher may command anything else.

“One last thing. There are three warships due today. They will provide artillery support for the column. Each division will have a man skilled in signaling the ships’ cannon fire. I expect only single divisions will need support, unless we meet the Zarthani in a major battle. If there is a general battle, my artillery man will do the signaling.

“Now, proceed with the inspections, and signal with a battle standard hoist when you are ready to move.”

Oaxnosh returned to his division. New divisions had six companies of a hundred and fifty men and another with only a hundred men in the headquarters company. An old division like he commanded had ten companies of a thousand men each. Oaxnosh wished he commanded a smaller division because ten thousand men were cumbersome and unwieldy to command.

Thus it was when he returned to the division, he called his captains together, and because there were ten of them, perforce he had to speak loudly.

“The Captain-General wants every man inspected before we march. They are all to have their selectors set on ‘one.’ I remind you that only captains and higher may change that, and from the Captain-General’s tone you’d better be very sure. Company punishment for defaulters.”

This was further proof of how fast news traveled in the army! There were thousands of whispers, followed by a lot of dry clicks as selectors were moved to ‘one.’ Virtually everybody kept them set on ‘three.’ Then a moment later clicks came again as the division in front of Oaxnosh changed their selectors and he was sure that behind him, the divisions were doing the same thing.

Brigadier Twixla’s men ran up the hill and when they started marching, the the army moved out. Twice during the morning Twixla signaled that he had dwelt with snipers, but hadn’t pursued.

In the middle of the afternoon there was another unscheduled stop. Oaxnosh deliberately didn’t talk with anyone. He was most surprised when the Captain-General rode up and motioned him to the side.

“Tell me, Brigadier. I understand that Brigadier Huixla is your friend.”

“Yes, sir! We’ve known each other for many years.”

“Brigadier Xenoc just fell off his horse and killed himself. I want a competent commander for his division. I am thinking about putting up Huixla in his place.”

Oaxnosh debated what to say next. “Captain-General, meaning no disrespect, there are few men with voices as loud as yours or mine. That said, there are few men with as soft voices as my friend. If you give him that division, you’ll need to include a bull-voiced division sergeant.”

The Captain-General nodded. “That’s the truth about our voices! You told your captains what to inspect. A finger width later every rifle in the army was set to ‘one.’”

Oaxnosh shrugged. “Sometimes commanding this many men is a curse, sir.”

“Tell me, Oaxnosh, are you happy with the ill-repute your uncle has fallen into?”

“He lost a battle, sir. He ignored the advice of one of the best generals of the age. He walked into a trap of his own making. Yes, the priest who killed him was the worst traitor in the history of our people. But whoever it had been, my uncle’s fate was clear.

“In my career I admit asking myself ‘What would my uncle do?’ and then doing something else.”

The Captain-General grunted. “I have heard no one speak against Huixla although everyone speaks of his command voice. The trick is to have commanders who give good orders, not how loudly they shout them. That is what sergeants are for, as you have said.”

With that the Captain-General was up on his horse and heading back along the column. That evening, Oaxnosh was listening to his division sergeant report on the status of the division when Huixla appeared and told the division sergeant to leave them.

“You gave the Captain-General a good report about me,” he said simply.

“Well, I did mention your command voice isn’t very commanding.”

His friend smiled and nodded. “I want to say something about my past. We first met as captains in the God-King’s army, after we had been sent to Huspai five years ago. Actually, I’d served a little south of Huspai and Becal a decade before as a junior lieutenant.

“There were a group of professional officers dedicated to improving the army. Candidly, they were contemptuous of men like your uncle. As a very junior lieutenant I was asked to work in the fireseed mill, south of Becal. No one knew that I wasn’t the slave I pretended to be.

“My mission was to inspect the facility and learn as much as I could about the fireseed secret. There were still priests of Styphon there overseeing the production but when Demon Kalvan appeared it was clear that Kalvan’s fireseed was superior to Styphon’s and they began using the new formula themselves else no one would buy their fireseed.

“I was young, Oaxnosh. Very young. It wasn’t until nearly when I was due to leave that I realized that the priests of Styphon talked a lot amongst themselves as they talked to some priests of the God-King, but not many of them. My duties ended and I returned to Tenosh, where I was debriefed.

“I had permanent scars from the beatings I had masquerading as a slave and I was told that it would be painful, but those scars could be hidden. I was still young, Oaxnosh. Very young, and very, very foolish. They kindled fires on my back and then doused them. It was the worst pain you can imagine and even now the skin on my back pains me every heartbeat of every day.

“The man who relieved me was a lieutenant I had known in the school I had attended, and he, at least, got to go as a watch lieutenant. Six moons before the attack on the High King, he vanished. The Styphoni priests said he had evidently deserted. Aulix was a fine officer and would never dream of deserting. In the next few moons a half dozen other officers were killed, removed or in some other way replaced.

“I, on the other hand, was promoted captain and transferred to Huspai, where you met me. Who remembers the face of a slave? I was assigned to the Office of the General Staff and while I was at Huspai, I made regular reports. Then came the shocks of the war with Outpost. I was one of the officers who recommended an immediate massive attack on Xipototec. Old General Xapa was a cavalry commander and was in command and attacked towards Xipototec with half of Huspai’s cavalry and ten thousand infantry, and made no attempt at haste.

“General Thanos arrived in Huspai and was enraged. He sent a message to General Xapa to wait for him and then hurried forward with even more troops. As you know, he was too late. I was with General Thanos, and I was one of the half division he ordered back to Huspai, while he went to Tecpan. I admire General Thanos, but he was fighting demons: Duke Tuck and Countess Judy.

“As the columns that marched on Outpost learned, Demon Tuck knew a new way of fighting. General Thanos didn’t reach Tecpan either before the city rose up against the God-King. Eventually, General Thanos returned to Tenosh.

“Oaxnosh, listen to me. I was assigned to the General Staff, reporting to General Thanos personally. Yes, the General Staff went over to King Xyl. I am loyal to our fighting men. I am loyal to our people, at least I was until the plague destroyed them. A plague that I am sure the priests of Styphon and the God-King made.

“Now, I ask you to trust me. The men who lead us now are low, conniving men, who favor back blows.” Huixla waved out to sea.

“Tomorrow, three warships will join us for artillery support. A few moons ago five such ships sailed north, but only three have returned. Have you heard about North Port?”

“I know it is a coastal town of Zarthan.”

“The man who commands the warships was once the Count of North Port. When he fled North Port, he used great fireseed bombs to destroy the town. Only a few of his people survived, while the rest perished in fire and flame. About the same percentage of those who lived afterwards as those of our people who survived in the heartlands.”

Oaxnosh’s mind raced. “General Thanos is high in the Olmechan ranks.”

“He was Xyl’s and Cambon’s tutor.”

“You want something from me,” Oaxnosh said.

“Ha! I had thought you were slow and would never get there!

“Oaxnosh, I swear to you, I know the purpose of this column. We are destined to fight our way to South March, are we not? As we go south we are to destroy South Port as well.”

“Those are the Captain-General’s intentions,” Oaknosh confirmed.

“There is estimated about sixty thousand Zarthani regulars who will oppose us. There are three million people between us and South March, some of whom will surely muster as militia. Perhaps another hundred thousand men.”

“And we have more than that,” Oaxnosh told his friend, trying to remain calm.

“Oaxnosh, we are a feint, a distraction. The main army will march on Xipototec. We were never expected to win. We are just to die nobly while doing as much damage to Zarthan as we can so they can’t afford to send men to help Duke Tuck.”

“That begs the question of your intentions, Huixla,” Oaxnosh said levelly.

“You and I have two of the large divisions next to each other in the line. When it comes time, when things are falling apart, hurry your division down to the water and dig fighting holes above the high tide line. Very deep fighting holes. If we can maintain our unit cohesion, perhaps we can negotiate favorable terms from the Zarthani.”

“You think it proper to plan to negotiate with our enemies for our surrender?”

Huixla gave a low laugh. “Zarthan–even the High King–aren’t my enemies, and I dare say they are not yours. They are certainly enemies of the God-King, his priests and the foreign Styphon. Xyl has never done anything to hurt me and mine that I know of. I’m sure that the priests of Styphon and the God-King were responsible for the plague. And that hurt everyone.”

“We will be shot for treason,” Oaxnosh despaired.

Huixla clapped him on the back. “Certainly not! We have enough ammunition to fight only one large battle. Then we will be leading men armed with nearly two hundred thousand clubs that won’t even take a proper bayonet! We will be clubbed to death by our own men for leading them to their deaths!”

Oaxnosh considered things and looked at Huixla and realized the truth. They were a feint, a distraction, to be thrown away carelessly. They were to go slow to give the Zarthani time to muster a massive response. Then, they’d fight a major battle, wreck the Zarthani army, and then die nobly, to be remembered as martyrs.

II

Gryllos had to wait until Heavy Weapons Company was safely across the river. Before they got started across, he pulled Roric and Jako to one side. “Considering how Kaldi feels about Ahsuhl, you’ll cross last, Jako. Still, we’d be stupid to let our guard down now, so scout south and east until the company is safely across.

“Roric, did you mark where Ahsuhl fell?” Gryllos asked.

“Yes, Major.”

“You’ll be in the first load. Go to where he fell; if he’s not there, find out where he has been taken. Don’t be a nuisance, but watch what happens to him. Countess Judy will want to know.”

“Yes, sir,” the veteran sergeant responded.

He glanced at Jako. “May Jako and Kaldi go with me? He’s even more likely to have marked where Ahsuhl went down.”

“No, I want them to scout to the south and east,” Gryllos repeated. “Now I have to see that the company gets across in good order.”

Gryllos turned to Kaldi. “If Ahsuhl is the one who killed your family I would understand if you wanted to kill him. Our colonel took a knife to the stomach and survived. There was nothing in his stomach and it was a knife thrust delivered by a woman whose heart wasn’t in it. Gut shot? I’ve never heard of someone surviving that sort of wound. If they are going to give him grace, you can ask if you can strike the blow.

“When you return from scouting.”

Kaldi brightened and bobbed her head. Gryllos watched them hurry south, and then turned his attention back to the ferry busy with returning Countess Noia’s division back to the other shore. He shook his head and called for his lieutenants. Time to pack their wagons and join the line of troops waiting to cross.

*** ** ***

Gryllos didn’t see the countess again until after dark. She called him to a large map set up in her presence room. “This is a map of our bay. There are two arms to the bay, guarding a narrow entrance. When General Denethon invested the town, he put cannon on both arms because there were two large ships in the harbor.

“My brother had planted fireseed barrels along both arms before General Denethon came. When Alcibydos destroyed the town, he destroyed the general’s artillery as well and in the subsequent confusion he left in those two ships.

“It would be nice to think those were the same two ships you destroyed, Major, but I’m sure my brother is not stupid enough to use all the arrows in his quiver. It will take much work, probably a year, before we can build emplacements on the spits again. Here, however, we have an alternative.” She indicated an island in the bay, about a mile long and not very wide.

“This island is a rock in the bay, however it is relatively soft sandstone, and picks do a fine job of digging through it. I’d place a third of your guns on the northern end of the island, to cover a landward attack from that direction, and the rest at the southern tip to cover the town and harbor.”

“My men are used to hard work, Countess. We can dig emplacements in a few hours in dirt; rock I don’t know about,” Gryllos told her.

“It is the near the end of the planting season and Ahsuhl’s troops tore up a lot of our freshly sown crops. We have a short growing season here, but there is likely time enough to replant. In two moon quarters I can give you a thousand men to dig, but no sooner,” Noia told him.

“As I say, we’ll have to look the island over in the morning. We should be able to do something, Countess.”

There was a flurry at the door and Roric, Jako and Kaldi were there.

“Report, Roric,” Gryllos ordered.

“Major, the local militia advanced after the action and policed the field. Casualties were killed and stripped, and then all the dead were dumped in a mass grave, Ahsuhl among them. They took no prisoners.”

Gryllos looked at Countess Noia who grimaced. ”That isn’t Galzar’s Way. While I can explain it, I can’t excuse it,” Noia told Gryllos.

Gryllos nodded and told the tale of how the Lost Ruthani had disobeyed Duke Tuck and that afterwards many had been sent home.

Noia shrugged. “I am afraid I’m in no position to send anyone away. I deplore the brutality, but the fact is that everyone is afraid that if attackers won, they would do as before...kill every man, woman and child in North Port. There is no will among my people to take prisoners.”

Gryllos bowed. “Countess, it is one thing to hear about atrocities from afar and another to confront them face to face. Tecpan knows the travail the Olmechans experienced when their empire was thrown down. The night we left, men came in the night to attack our countess. The people of Tecpan swarmed them, pulled them down and there were also no survivors. We face foul enemies, heartless and unconscionable. We strive to be better men, but our enemies don’t always give us that luxury.”

“Well said, Major!” Countess Noia said. “But, as I said, it explains brutality, not excuses it.”


	16. A Place to Die

I

It was dawn and Vardos was unprepared to see a sea of tents that had not been in evidence the night before.

Baron Vosper was sitting at a fire warming his hands at the early morning chill. “Have a good night, Lieutenant?” the baron asked.

“They are not scouting much, but with this many men...they will be hard to hide.”

“They get to rest today. These men are Count Quillan’s best, along with two hundred thousand Olmecha. The Olmecha have been running for days.”

“And your intentions?” Vardos persisted.

“The earlier mortar attack on the town and patrol were canceled when the men of Becal marched. Now we prepare the attack on the palisade on the Coast Road. It is my general’s opinion that, if attacked, the troops at the palisade will fall back on the town. They were better at scouting at first, but of late they have not had very good practice. We believe that they are trying to provoke attacks where they can inflict lopsided casualties. We intend to provide them with some success in that scheme, although not the success they expect.

“The plan is this: the daily patrol departs and passes here two palm widths later...”

Vardos listened to the plan. “I’m not skilled at moving armies, but what if they don’t react the way you expect?”

“Two hundred and thirty thousand men firing from prepared positions against a mere thousand will do well no matter how better armed our enemies are. A thousand men hiding behind a thirty foot parapet are going to be mortar meat.”

“Mortar meat, Baron?” Vardos asked.

“What mortarmen call those who can’t fight back.”

Vardos had heard enough tales of mortarmen during the war to make him shiver. “Suppose they sortie?”

“You have looked for a sortie gate and seen none. There probably is one, but it will be small. The first time men emerge from such a postern gate, the mortars will target them exclusively.”

“And how many mortars do we have?” Vardos asked.

Vosper grinned wickedly. “They are half Zarthani and half Olmechan crews–each of whom will be each trying to outdo the other with their ability. Lord Tuck taught the men of Outpost in a moon quarter to fire their mortars. These men have had a moon to practice. There are enough mortars to set the survivors from the palisade moving quickly towards the town.

“Your company, will straddle the Coast Road, further east of the ambush site. You are to insure no survivors reach the town. For one or two days, we kill the patrols sent west to see what has happened. Depending on whether or not the town commander is competent. One day if he is, two days if he is not.

“This army will come up from the west, and another two hundred thousand men will come from the north, and a third one comes from the east.

Baron Vosper looked at Vardos. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but the mortars will fire the town. Mexicotál survivors will be permitted to go east, but not west. The Zarthani still in town know to go inland, north. There will be strong bodies of Zarthani troops there, who will skirmish any Mexicotál pursuit to give the people time to escape.”

Vosper could see the unhappiness on the young officer’s face. “Lieutenant, these are Mexicotál. They are not superior soldiers, and when they realize there is no hope, their army will fall apart.

“Think about it for a moment. Every man they spend chasing refugees dilutes their firepower. The only reason why they still live is that we have to respect that firepower, and do everything we can to vitiate it. As I said, every man sent from the main column is one less we have to face at the end.”

“But to burn the town...” Vardos whispered, stunned at the thought.

“The God-King’s men took it. It was undoubtedly their plan to fire it at some point as was done to North Port. The town was lost from the beginning, Lieutenant. This means the same fate will await the town thus we will bring it about when it is to our advantage.”

“Could we sneak in ahead and save it?”

Vosper put his hand on the young lieutenant’s shoulder. “At North Port, they mined both the town and the best artillery positions covering the town. Nine of ten, Lieutenant. Nine of ten. You go into that town and that is how many you will lose.”

Vardos stood, frozen and speechless, imagining how he would explain losing nine of ten of his company. Explaining it to his count would be a task he dreaded. Explaining it to the families of the men he’d lost would break him.

Vosper gripped his shoulder. “Stick with the plan, Lieutenant. There will be enough loss and tears doing that.”

“Where is your lord, tonight, Vosper?”

The old man looked sad. “He is with men who flatter him. His wife taught him not to speak of our plans, but still they seek to flatter him in hopes he will or just to curry favor. I fear for him.”

Baron Vosper drew himself up. “I am an old man and am rambling, crying in my beard. Ignore what I just said. We will fire the mortars on the town and burn it. Everyone will flee. Those going north or east will be allowed to go unhindered. None will survive to go west.”

The Hostigi always said that a plan never survived contact with the enemy, and Vardos had certainly seen that often enough even in exercises. Hardly anyone seemed to do as expected.

The mortars started firing at the palisade, and instead of defending it, the Mexicotál turned and fled. The men in headlong-flight were too spread out to ambush well, but two miles further east the Olmechans fired anyway.

Not all of the God-King’s soldiers were in the trap, but those that were were destroyed. The God-King’s soldiers coming up took the defenders under fire and nearly five hundred of the Olmechan troops were killed or wounded in a short, sharp battle.

Vardos found himself fighting for his life, because about a hundred of the God-King’s men made it through the trap. He screamed himself hoarse yelling at his men not to stay up more than a heartbeat. Still, he lost four men, but then the Olmechans maneuvered in behind the Mexicotál and the battle was over.

Vardos conferred with his sergeants about the casualties. “I hoped we could get through this without loss,” he lamented.

“Honestly, sir, I thought we would be hurt worse,” his section sergeant said. The sergeant laughed. “Next time, you’ll be screaming at them to stand up!”

A little while later a party of horsemen rode into the company camp. Vosper pointed out Gamelin to Vardos, then he recognized Count Quillan. He immediately went to the count’s side.

When Count Quillan was down from his horse, he turned and stared at the beast. “I wonder how many men it will take me to hoist me up on my horse next time?”

“I don’t know about your king, Count, but mine will be very angry that I got this close to the front lines. That occupies my thinking!” an Olmechan officer said.

The Olmechan officer turned to Vardos. “It is my understanding, sir, that there is nothing forward of this position except the town that the God-King captured at the outset.”

“There will be a patrol about half-way to High Sun tomorrow, of about a hundred men,” Vardos reported.

“Well,” the man said, “We will send one or two back with tales of death and destruction. We already have a mortar company in place, to attack the town later tomorrow.”

“It is a fell thing to burn a town,” Vardos offered.

“In my lands, most of our towns were burnt after the plague. It is indeed a fell thing, Lieutenant, and my men will weep at the flames. This is important. The survivors from the town will catch up with their army in short order. What a tale they will tell! An overwhelming army is at their heels! They will never suspect that the real threat is still to the east and north.”

The man held out his hand in the fashion favored by the Duke of Mexico and now aped by most. Vardos shook it and the man said, “Remember this day unto your last, that you shook the hand of Cambon, Prince of Mexico and architect of this coming battle.

“I only hope it is a pleasant memory.”

II

Oaxnosh was called well after nightfall by Sergeant Quizan. He was drowsing on his cot and thus responded quickly. “Brigadier, you have to see this!” the sergeant said.

He went outside his tent into the night. All around him were frantic sounds of conversation. The words were quick and hushed, with frequent pauses. “There, sir, to the west, behind us.”

There was a glow in the sky to the west, light reflecting off the clouds. “That’s Lashium,” Sergeant Quizan said unnecessarily.

Oaxnosh felt sick. They had left a thousand men at the palisade and another fifteen hundred to hold the town. All with the new weapons. The Zarthani weren’t supposed to have very many artillery pieces, and the new weapons should have cut them to pieces.

A trumpet blared in the night: officer’s call!

Quizan stopped him as Oaxnosh started forward. “You have four men detailed as your guards that you have never used. Please, sir, use them. Walk in a different place each time or one day a Zarthani sharpshooter will bag another brigadier!”

Oaxnosh stopped himself from speaking at the temerity of his sergeant, realizing that he was being foolish. So he arrived at the Captain-General’s position with his escort.

The Captain-General was on the warpath, Oaxnosh realized. “Half of you! Half of you came without your escorts! Half the rest of you were tightly clustered in the middle of your escorts! Never again! You must have escorts, even to move around camp and even if your helmets are without crests! And vary where you walk in the group. If your men cluster tightly around you, they will know who to shoot!”

“It is undoubtedly Lashium burning behind us. I checked with the rear guard and they did not hear any artillery.”

Oaxnosh was surprised when Huixla stood up and stepped forward.

“What, Brigadier Huixla?”

“If they used mortars, there would have been no sound at this distance, even if the guns were on this side of the town. We are nearly twenty-five miles away. It is hard to hear mortars a mile away.”

“Except when they land,” the Captain-General snapped.

“Sir, I meant no disrespect. I think the main threat is in front of us,” Huixla said.

“There were several thousand men behind us, only a large force could have taken them. All the weapons we’ve captured from the Zarthani are single shot,” the Captain-General said in a level tone.

Oaxnosh feared for his friend. None of them had known anything about the Captain-General before he had been appointed and they still had little knowledge to go on.

Huixla stood his ground, seemingly unafraid of the Captain-General. “Demon Tuck, when we had time to study how he had accomplished the impossible, favored raids and ambushes, even as he confronted Denethon. And he successfully ambushed Denethon, where the Demon Kalvan and his lackey, Hestophes, had been unable to.

“If mortars were employed against the palisade, they were ordered to withdraw, were they not?” Huixla continued.

Oaxnosh mentally gulped. Huixla was challenging the Captain-General!

“They were,” the Captain-General said after a pause.

“Our scouting is for shit. Suppose the twenty thousand Zarthani we knew they had available, got in between the town and palisade? The Hostigi are the masters of the unanswered volley. If twenty thousand men fired a volley at a thousand, marching on the Coast Road. Who would answer? The hundred or so survivors? Would they rise up and strike back at the ambush or flee towards the town?”

“And what would you have us do, Grand Marshal Huixla?” the Captain-General said bitterly.

“We need to scout forward of our march route, lest we too start receiving unanswerable volleys.”

Most of the officers had pulled back from Huixla, but Oaxnosh moved beside him. “One of the many criticisms of my uncle, the Captain-General of our men at Three Hills, was that he didn’t scout enough. He wound up facing an army in unknown ground, where he didn’t know what the Hostigi dispositions were. He had no idea of how large the army was that he faced, and above all, he had no idea of the artillery he faced. Last, but not least, he let the High King cut him off from the God-King.

“Surely we can learn from our mistakes!” Oaxnosh concluded.

“The rest of you try to calm the troops. Huixla and Oaxnosh, see me!”

Everyone left, and the two friends presented themselves to the Captain-General. “What are you two trying to prove?”

Huixla spoke faster than Oaxnosh. “Captain-General, no man that I know of in this army knows you or your history. I see you making the same mistakes that have cost us so dearly in the past. I am a loyal man of the God-King and want to see his armies triumph, not come to ruin.”

“And if the plan isn’t what you think?” the Captain-General asked.

“We march to South Port, then on to South March, defeating their hasty defense in as bloody as fashion as we can? Then we die.” Huixla said contemptuously.

“We hope to kill the bulk of the Zarthani army,” the Captain-General stated. “Their king was known to be in South Port; he fancies himself a military man.”

“Their king has an infant son by a foreign wife. There is no way he would risk himself in battle. That, and the Hostigi defeated him utterly, and the last impetus was from the Hostigi themselves. Demon Tuck was scattering our armies in the south then,” Huixla said.

The Captain-General sighed and nodded. “It is as you say. We are vulnerable to ambushes.” He gave a low laugh. “Tomorrow, you Huixla, your division, will be the van, three miles ahead of the column. You, Oaxnosh, your division will take over the flanking duties from Twixla’s division.”

They had taken only a few steps towards their men when Huixla whispered, “Later, my friend!”

Later Oaxnosh faced Sergeant Quizan. “We have a new assignment from the Captain-General. Tomorrow we take over the for the left flank guards.”

The sergeant reached a conclusion almost at once. “You upset the Captain-General?”

“I reminded him of my uncle’s failure to scout.”

Quizan laughed bitterly. “Certainly we have not had proper scouts out.”

“Brigadier Huixla is the new van commander and will be far in front.”

The sergeant hawked and spat. “With ten percent of the army scouting we should be at least a little safer. At least a little.”

“I am sorry, Sergeant,” was all Oaxnosh could think of to say. “How many snipers has Brigadier Twixla faced?”

“About fifty a day. What Twixla does is all of the men even with the sniper fires three shots, and after that, they let them go.”

“In other words, they escape scot free,” Oaxnosh lamented.

“Twixla is no fool, sir. They do not pursue.”

Sergeant Quizan waved at the sky. “It will rain soon, but not very heavy and not for long.”

Brigadier Oaxnosh studied the sky and then the road. “The main column should be okay.”

“With respect, sir, we are near the van. After two hundred thousand men have passed over it, the road will not be as good as it once was.”

Oaxnosh allowed himself a small smile. “We will not have to worry about roads on the flank. The Captain-General can deal with it.

“I have an idea to reduce the number of snipers. The men can count to four, can they not? They know their rank numbers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are the snipers random along the column?”

“Brigidier Twixla said that sometimes the last man was targeted.”

“We have ten companies in the division. Every palm width I will call on a company and a rank to fire one shot towards the north, at a likely hiding spot, anywhere along the march route. That is about the same amount of fireseed Twixla used. Detail a sharpshooter in each company; they are the only ones to fire three shots at a puff of fireseed smoke, and only those even with their company.”

The sergeant blinked. “That isn’t the normal way snipers are supposed to be suppressed.”

“We’ll try it for a while and see what we get.”

The army was stirring early the next morning, Oaxnosh realized, and then found out why when a messenger came with a verbal message of an officer call.

The Captain-General was blunt. “We are twenty-five miles from Lashium. We received a messenger from Brigadier Quetzal shortly before sun-up who reported that the Zarthani were attacking the town with mortars. Quetzal sallied with five hundred men and never returned. The messenger had been ordered to await the results of the sally. When it was obvious that they had been destroyed, he started for us. The mortar fire had shifted when the sally departed, from another direction. The town was in flames. The Zarthani hit our ammunition reserve, but there was little left.”

Huixla was there and he sniffed in contempt. “The Zarthani let the messenger go, to make us think a large body of troops are behind us. Has the rear guard seen anyone else?”

“No, Brigadier, the rearguard hasn’t seen anyone else. There weren’t many mounted troops in the town, only the daily patrol to the palisade.”

A mounted officer from the rear guard galloped up and slid from his horse. “My scouts report two hundred thousand troops have bypassed Lashium and are headed this way!” The officer looked the Captain-General in eye and stood even straighter. “They report the van, at least, are Olmechan.”

There was a stunned silence and all eyes turned to the Captain-General. Oaxnosh was amazed at the bravery of Huixla. “My scouts are already five miles in advance of the main column and my van is two miles behind them. Shall I order the scouts out ten miles in advance?”

“Yes, yes,” the Captain-General said. He turned to Oaxnosh. “Are your men in position?”

“I have scouts on the ridge top, who are not supposed to show themselves. So far there has been nothing to report. The mountains rise in steps here. So far this morning there has been no sniping.”

“Brigadier Huixla, have your men find a ridge line parallel with the coast, no more than a mile from the coast.”

“Yes, Captain-General!”

“Go now! Take a strong party forward and see for yourself!”

“Of course, sir.”

“Brigadier Oaxnosh, your men will be looking for something similar as well. Go now. The rest of you, get your men up and moving. No breakfast! We have to hurry!”

Huixla walked the first bit with Oaxnosh and said, “We are scouting for a position to die in, where we can inflict the maximum damage on the enemy.”

“You don’t think we can win?” Oaxnosh asked his friend.

“I know that if the Olmechans are here in any numbers, we are all going to die. They hate us with a all-consuming passion. They blame us for the plague. The Captain-General is a Styphon High Priest. I heard him talking to the admiral commanding the transports. The advance scouts used the Zarthani and Hostigi message system. If the Olmechans are here, someone in the message chain was made to talk.

“And if the Olmechans are here, any hope of negotiating is gone. I do not believe that they will rush into our guns, either. They will hold back and besiege us, snipe at us and one day we will fire our last bullet or eat our last rations, and then it will be us rushing _their_ guns.”

“The ships?”

“Three ships? Don’t be foolish, Oaxnosh! And if they are close enough to range the shore, mortars on the shore can range them. When the Captain-General messages them the news, we’ll see them turn tail and run.”

Hours later, Oaxnosh received a message from the Captain-General. “There is a ridge that we can use four miles ahead, east and a little north. Preserve your force and ammunition stocks, make your way as fast as possible eastwards.”

There had been blessedly few snipers, it seemed the Zarthani didn’t like the tactic of men firing at likely hiding spots. Still, Oaxnosh had only a fraction of his men exposed at once, and changed them frequently.

He ordered the men to the safe side of the ridge, then had the men build cook fires and fed them a full meal. Sergeant Quizan was beside himself at the delay fulfilling their orders, but Oaxnosh was firm. When the men were ready again, Oaxnosh took them off the ridge and joined the main column, still barely two-thirds passed. They ran, leaving unit after unit behind, until they climbed the ridge.

It was, Oaxnosh thought, ideal. The side between the road and ridge was covered with low brush, but the reverse slope was wooded. Huixla was in charge of assigning positions, which rather surprised Oaxnosh and he said something about it.

Huixla laughed. “My friend, the Captain-General is terrified. He thought we had a chance to succeed. It would have been a great victory! Alas, he’s not going to achieve anything. He set down his deputy and give me the job.”

“Where are my men to go?”

“The western end of the ridge, next to me. The men to the east are going to get killed.”

“Pardon?”

“There are low hills, like fingers, pointing at our positions from the north and east, but mainly to the north. My scouts say there is a large, relatively flat area to our east, then the finger hills resume. I imagine if we had gone a little further, we’d have been ambushed over half a circle, with the sea to our backs.”

“How do you ambush an army this size?”

“We are either facing Tuck or the King of Zarthan, who got a quick course in ambushes and raids. Personally, I think it is General Thanos. He survived the plague. If I can message him...”

“Huixla, I know hardly any of the men under me. Yes, I admired General Denethon’s devotion to the survival of his soldiers. I don’t want my men killed, Huixla. Maybe they won’t understand it, but it is what I feel I have to do!”

“Oaxnosh, one of my men I recognize from my days as a slave. Half of the scars on my back were put there by him, not that any of the other overseers would have treated me any different. It was his job, Oaxnosh and my duty. It was the same for him: his job and his duty. I have no more desire to see him dead than I want to see you dead.

“As I have no desire to see my own men dead; I have no desire to see another commander’s men dead. Yes, if they were coming to attack us, I’d feel different. But we have come to attack them, after our allies committed the most foul deed in the history of foul deeds. If there is any sacrifice I can make to save even one man with this army, I will make it!”

Oaxnosh gripped his arm in the brother-salute. “As I, my friend, as I. If you need anything, just ask!”

Huixla laughed. “Just don’t let on to the Captain-General, not just yet.”

The men hugged and moved to their troops.

*** ** ***

“I have appointed Huixla, deputy commander,” the Captain-General said later to his assembled brigadiers.

There were some grumbles, but they were muted.

“General Huixla, your thoughts.”

Huixla grinned and spoke louder than he had ever before. “We are on an mostly unscouted ridge. Sure, we knew the enemy wasn’t here before we moved to occupy our positions, but we have no idea where the formations are that oppose us. Caution is indicated.

“There are two hundred thousand soldiers behind us. If they were Zarthani, I’d welcome it. But they appear to be mostly Olmechan. Evidently the Zarthani aren’t as afraid of them as we thought.

“That is an sixth of Xyl’s army. If I was going to send part of my army away when I knew the enemy outnumbered me three to two, I’d send a small part of my army. Even if I didn’t know about the disparity in weapons. The sad fact is that our enemies back in Mexico outnumber us three to two, because the High King faces us as well.

“But, all of that is a side issue, to be decided without us.

“You need to picket as far forward as possible, both north, east and west, as well as lightly to the south. Your men should prepare fighting positions for an attack from any direction. We don’t know where the Zarthani will attack from. They still have another two hundred thousand soldiers; we do not expect they have concentrated as yet, but at some point they will. Your pickets are our eyes and ears. They must not slack!

“Watchers will need to report any movement they see, and your otherwise idle men should be set watching! They must not slack! The Zarthani are not the High King’s men! They aren’t the Duke Tuck’s men! Your men must not slack!”

III

Gamelin stood on a brow of a hill watching the army take up positions. He turned to Cambon. “This isn’t right, General. They have no place to go from that hill. Obviously we have to wait them out, but one thing that the High King and Duke Tuck were adamant about: a despairing enemy will do something stupid.

“They will soon find out that Denethon and his army are to their east, Quillan to the west and we are to their north. When we don’t attack they will know they are doomed. Their best choice will be to launch their own assault with their new weapons. Whichever way they go, they stand to do outsized damage to whomever they attack. If I were them, I would go north, so that some of my soldiers might survive.”

Xitki Quillan joined them. “We need to thin our lines, lest the God-King’s soldiers attack.”

“We were just talking about that Count Quillan,” Gamelin said.

“There is not enough depth on the southern side,” the count continued. “They can shoot from the sea from up there so we are at risk from their ships. It would be pointless for them to attack to the south.”

“The mortars are already ready near the water’s edge. We know they have only three warships present,” Cambon reported.

“It is still a risk,” Quillan insisted. He sighed. “Admittedly, we have news from North Port. Your Major Gryllos has destroyed two of the new warships. They came too close inshore and tangled when they tried to flee the mortars. Still, their cannon outrange mortars and could do considerable harm if the mortars aren’t properly positioned.

“Then, he fought a battle with another traitor and won then, too.

“Here is what I propose,” and with that the old count unrolled a map. “There are dead areas in many places where we can place limited troops. There are larger ridges to the east and west of the ridge we can occupy, where the bulk of our–your–forces can shelter behind. It the unlikely event they attack toward the sea, we snipe from the other sides. If they go east or west, the troops withdraw in order, with the troops on the other side engaging their rear. If they go north, the troops from the south move to occupy that hill, being careful not to expose themselves.

“General Denethon will be occupying the small ridges to the east, there are several of them. He too will have thin lines facing the direct line east.”

The old count grinned. “They have trapped themselves. We just need to avoid a damaging blow. To the north they face miles and miles of broken ground, without even the meanest track. Beyond the broken ground is the desert portions of the Central Valley. There is no way to get wagons over those ridges. They will emerge into the desert with what they can carry in their own arms. Probably no more ammunition than our soldiers carry. And we will outnumber them nearly four or five to one.”

“Still,” General Cambon said, “we will have to be careful.”

Xitki Quillan grinned liked a laughing wolf. “We will have to be very careful, even as we grab them by their best parts and start carving!”


	17. To Live or Die -- That is the Question

I

Huixla looked around the very haggard set of the God-King’s officers. “Our scouts report heavy enemy presences in all directions. I have no idea of how they got there, but they are to our north in considerable numbers and east as well as west,” he said.

Huixla looked then at the Captain-General who had a bland, bored expression on his face. “We have not seen any of the support ships since we have contacted our enemy’s army.”

“They have withdrawn,” the Captain-General told his officers. “They are all we have and we’ve lost some.” The Captain-General was sweating now, rank rivulets running down his face, no matter how calm the demeanor he presented.

“I have to believe that if the Zarthani are going to attack us, they will come from all directions at once. It should take them less than a moon quarter to do what they can to coordinate such an attack,” the Captain-General went on to say.

Huixla presented a clear and complete plan for the defense of the ridge if they were attacked, and finished with something that raised Oaxnosh’s spirits. “Any questions? Comments?”

There were few questions and no comments. Oaxnosh joined Huixla as the Captain-General left.

“That was well done, my friend!” he told Huixla.

Huixla gestured helplessly. “All a lie, Oaxnosh. They aren’t going to attack. In two days, I will have an alternate plan.”

Huixla looked around. No one wanted to get close to the two officers. “Do you understand what is going on now?”

“No. It seems complicated.”

Huixla laughed. “Anything but. We came with one of Styphon’s High Priests as Captain-General, and one of the God-King’s priests with each division. One hundred and fifty-five of our priests, none of whom have ever been on a military campaign before and most are practically lay brothers, young and inexperienced in the priesthood, the military, and life.

“And our brother brigadiers are mostly young and with minimal experience. If you were to closely check the quality of your troops, it would be the same. A few senior sergeants, but not many.”

He looked at Oaxnosh. “I would not lead my original division to destruction; I will not lead my new division to destruction. I will give my life before I lead this army to its destruction.” He closed his eyes and spoke in a whisper. “Tomorrow afternoon, the Captain-General will be wounded, straying too close to the lines.”

The scouts reported large dust clouds to the east and west as well as the north, that rapidly diminished as the oncoming troops got closer. Oaxnosh was surprised when Huixla called him to a Council of War with just the Captain-General and the two friends.

“At least there is nothing to the south,” Huixla said sourly. “Ha! Our ships were supposed to be there to support us!”

The Captain-General put on a brave front. “The dust is consistent with the Zarthani tying brush to their cavalry to make them appear more numerous.”

“It is also consistent with hundreds of thousands of soldiers on the march,” Huixla said. “Our scouts have found no large bodies of cavalry.”

“We have scouts and pickets out to let us know what we face,” the Captain-General told them.

“The scouts report that our skirmishers are dying in great numbers, Captain-General. Our skirmishers. One of their men fires from cover at one of our men, our man fires back three times, and another Zarthani shoots our man while he is still looking the wrong way. The Zarthani hide well and it is they that usually shoot first, then duck behind something substantial for cover the same instant,” Huixla said. “They are winning the battle of the skirmishers. I’ve ordered ours back to our lines.”

“Tomorrow, we should all attack southwards,” the Captain-General said. “We will catch a portion of their army and destroy it.”

Huixla was contemptuous, “And we will have very little ammunition at all after that, and what will happen if it is just a token force of skirmishers? Most of our wagons with the column, I find, contain bullets and not rations. The logistos tells me we have a moon quarter of rations, plus what the men have in their packs.

“And above all, where would we end up? Trapped still, but with empty, or nearly so, weapons.”

“You know that the new weapons, if misused, eat fireseed like a bear in a berry patch,” the Captain-General offered.

“There should have been provisions made for resupply,” Oaxnosh said.

“We never expected to meet this much opposition so quickly.”

Oaxnosh was rude, “For half my military life, men have criticized my famous uncle for the excuses he made for his failings. Tell me, Captain-General: whose idea was this? Styphon’s or the God-King?”

“The plan was agreed to by all,” the Captain-General said.

Oaxnosh was even more contemptuous at that comment. “Just who is the new God-King? He appears only rarely. And no one can see him clearly.”

“His retinue sees him every day,” the Captain-General said.

“And in the past, the God-King’s retinue stood proud beside him and all men knew who they were. Now, they are just as obscure as the God-King. Is the God-King a foreigner?”

“That is treason, General!”

“No, that is lèse majesté, foreigner! If you were who you say you are, you’d know that!” Huixla shouted.

An officer’s call was sounded and the brigadiers were slow to assemble. Huixla spoke to the assembled officers. “The Captain-General is an impostor. I asked him if the God-King is a foreigner and he said that question was treason.”

The assembled officers looked at each other. They had all grown up in service of the God-King all knew how wrong the answer was.

“We were told from the beginning that the Captain-General was a foreigner. All know what happened to our people and all of us have suspected it was the foreigners who caused the plague.

“Now we stand on a hill, two hundred thousand of the finest soldiers of the God-King. Enemies are on every side of us. There are Hostigi-led soldiers opposing us. They won’t attack against our weapons! They will snipe and skirmish and drain us with a thousand pinpricks!”

“If we attack them, we will cause great damage to their army!” one of the other officers said.

“Yes! But who will we damaging that army for? I fear it is the same foreigners who destroyed the Heartland! As far as I can tell, they will not be satisfied until we are all dead. And the all the Zarthani and all the Hostigi! All of us!”

One of the other officers grimaced. “And we should surrender to the Zarthani?”

“If you want to live,” Huixla told them.

“We are loyal soldiers of the God-King!” the man said defiantly.

“Have you seen the face of the new God-King? Have you heard a satisfactory explanation of how he came to be the God-King? What if the God-King now has a white face?”

There was a concerted gasp from the assembled officers. “It shouldn’t be a surprise! A white-faced foreigner leads us here. One of them. The same men who poisoned the King of the Zarthan. And what happened to the Heartland? A plague. Which, coincidentally the foreigners had a cure for, when the Hostigi and the Zarthani didn’t have anything.

“Yes, the people of Becal are happy to have escaped such a fate, and they don’t care to look very carefully at the explanations offered.

“Brothers! We are soldiers! Many times we have fooled our enemies, and yes, at times, they have fooled us. As soldiers we can’t afford to not understand the facts of battle, of war,” Huixla concluded.

Oaxnosh spoke up. “My famous uncle was deliberately blind to the facts before him at Three Hills. A reasonable man would think he didn’t want to know the true facts! He led more than a hundred and fifty thousand men to their deaths. The God-King was even worse. He went blindly into the High King’s guns. He threw away a million men!

“I know it sounds like lèse majesté, but the God-King should have stayed home and let better generals like Thanos and Xyl command. We lost a tenth of the Heart’s guards in one fell stroke! We lost nearly all of the Northern Regime’s soldiers at Three Hills and after.”

“Xyl is a traitor!” the man screamed.

“Xyl didn’t kill the God-King. Were you really willing to wait twenty years–or more–for a new God-King? With the Hostigi pressing on us?” Huixla retorted.

“Look, stop and think about where we are. We are a thousand miles from any help. Our transports sailed a half moon ago. We were left with three warships for artillery support and the Captain-General told us that now those ships have been recalled. We are surrounded. I’ve had men going through the wagons. We have a hundred and fifty rounds for each man, and only a moon quarter of supplies. The logistos told me that we didn’t get the stocks of food expected in Lashium Town. We found only enough food for a day or two.

“The Zarthani knew where and when we were coming. How did they find out? Did you, Quetzal, know where we going? Did any of you? No, the foreigners kept that to themselves, as well as the date of the attack.

“Do you understand that the Olmecha are here? They had to have started as soon as we did. How did they know? Tell me, please...how did they know where to come?

“Someone told them!”

“There is a spy among the foreigners!” Quetzal stated.

“Of course! The Zarthani can pass unnoticed amongst us! Maybe it was a Hostigi intelligencer!”

It had been one of the other brigadiers who spoke, mocking his fellow brigadier.

There was general laughter at that. Almost no Zarthani spoke their language, they all had an accent, and they looked altogether different. The Hostigi were even more incapable of such deeds.

Huixla’s face was like stone. “Brothers, we are going to live or die on this hill. If I thought the God-King wanted my death, I would go gladly. But a real God-King never had to hide his face from his people before. He has never taken foreigners into his inner circle before, to the exclusion of his own people. A true God-King must be aware of the plague and who started it. We’ve certainly heard the tale often enough from the Olmecha.

“Brothers, we are surrounded, and I fear that the majority of the soldiers surrounding us are Olmecha. You know what they think of us! If there is a fight, we all stand to die. Brothers, I have no wish to die for the men who destroyed our people!”

“What should we do, Huixla?” a voice asked.

“Offer to parley. It is still true that if the Zarthani make a mistake we can kill a great many of them. We should at least hear their terms.”

Brigadier Quetzal objected to that. “We haven’t fought them yet! We would lose our honor!”

“Brigadier Quetzal, you may not have fought them yet, but we have four divisions who have, and they carried out their mission! Our flankers and skirmishers have fought them! I have no wish to die in order to save your honor, Brigadier!” Huixla said.

There were four brigadiers who took offense at Quetzal’s comments and it took a while to convince them not to skin Quetzal.


	18. Truce Party

I

Sergeant Croyium shook his lieutenant awake. “Truce party approaching, sir.”

Vardos came awake at once. He had asked for this duty, after all. The first men to face the invaders after they had gone to ground. Of course, it was only for the day, his men would be relieved overnight.

To his surprise, Leem was just outside his tent, grinning. “In case you need any help translating, Lieutenant!”

Vardos had too many shocks on the last moon and didn’t blush. He didn’t speak Mexicotál.

“Of course, sir!”

“I am just a Ruthani, Lieutenant, who knows their language. No one special. Please do not use the word ’sir’ to me again!”

He and Leem rode out alone to face the two soldiers of the God-King. The one in front was in his late twenties, while the man to his left rear was about forty and probably a sergeant. The wind was brisk and the truce flag snapped and cracked in the wind.

Leem spoke loudly enough for them to hear, even though he addressed Vardos. “The man in the lead is a brigadier.”

“Do you speak our language?” the brigadier asked in Mexicotál.

“I do,” Leem said.

“You are Ruthani,” the man said.

Leem laughed, and then translated for Vardos. “All true men oppose you,” Leem answered to the God-King’s man.

The other man shrugged. “We have been badly led. We would make peace if you are willing to take our surrender.”

Leem translated that and was happy that Vardos replied, “Oath to Galzar?”

“Oath to whatever god you trust.”

“And we are to forget the people you killed in Lashium?”

“Sir, we were opposed entrance to the town. We did not deliberately target townspeople. Many people had fled before we attacked. I do not know what happened when you took the town, but we could see the fires.”

“If you had stayed home, there would have been no deaths.”

“I suppose it is hopeless to contest events, but we have been betrayed over and over. Our soldiers are confused and anxious. We still control them, but soon we won’t be able to.”

Leem turned to Vardos after he translated the last. “Let me speak to him, Lieutenant.”

“Of course,” Vardos said.

“Brigadier, my friend Count Quillan is about two miles back to the west, with a quarter million soldiers. My friend General Denethon is three miles east with another quarter million soldiers, and my friend General Cambon is to your north with a similar number. All three armies have moved into positions to deal with you. I am a servant of Countess Judy, whom you should know. Surrender, sir.”

“Your terms?”

“Surrender, Oath to Galzar. You will not get better terms.”

“My men wish to retain their weapons.”

“The Zarthani will trade you for your weapons. One of their old muskets for one of your new weapons. Fireseed loads and bullets in equal measure to what you surrender. You would, Oath to Galzar, be escorted to County North Port where you would be put to work for a year and a day, thereafter transported to where each man wishes if they promise never to fight Hostigos or Zarthan again,” Leem said.

“North Port?”

“A county devastated by one of your allies, north of the Great Northern River. You would be well-treated, and, given your parole, would labor in rebuilding the county.”

“I will have to take this back to our commander.”

“Your Captain-General?”

“He has been replaced. Brigadier Huixla commands.”

“Be quick. There is considerable animosity among the Zarthani. They have seen towns taken by the God-King’s forces before. What the Olmecha feel about you is enough to scorch the ears of a sergeant.”

“A God-King who doesn’t dare show his face to his people is no God-King. I know you may not believe this, but we have tried to be careful.”

“And who are you, exactly, sir?” Leem asked.

“Brigadier Oaxnosh, now the deputy commander of this force. To my shame, my uncle commanded at Three Hills. Now, I shall return to our forces.”

*** ** ***

Leem nodded and Oaxnosh turned and rode slowly back to their lines.

Oaxnosh spoke to his division sergeant on their return to their own lines. “What did you make of the Ruthani?”

“Sir, he sat his horse like a noble would. He was Ruthani, for all of that. I’ve heard that this Lord Tuck had an enormous impact on them. That man was both a noble and a Ruthani, something I had never thought to see. The other man was a junior Zarthani officer.”

“What do you think of their terms?”

The sergeant glanced at Oaxnosh and quickly looked away. “Brigadier, there are many of our men who follow the heathen god Galzar now. The tales that were told when the Heartland fell...no man would lie about that. The heathen priests walked among our people, fearless even as they died as well. They succored where they could and gave hope when it was the only thing they could give. If our men were to be given over to the Zarthani, Oath to Galzar, they would agree to do it in an heartbeat. Sir, the men are closer than I like to think about to mutiny. They know what is in store for them if we don’t come to terms with the Zarthani. We are a thousand miles from home and all the men know we have been abandoned.”

“I realize that this would be dangerous to bring up, but Sergeant, if we’d known the mind of the common soldiers, this would already have been over.”

“And I have served the God-King for nearly twenty-five years. You don’t know how hard it is to throw off a lifetime of effort and work,” the sergeant said.

“Maybe the Hostigi are right. We need leaders more easily replaced.”

The sergeant laughed. “I imagine the High King and Duke Tuck would be among the first to disagree!”

Oaxnosh laughed as well. “I imagine it is hard to start, to be the first!”

Sergeant Quetzal turned serious. “I suppose it would be unseemly to be in a rush to surrender without fighting.”

Oaxnosh smiled slightly. “As Huixla reminded a fellow brigadier, we’ve lost almost three thousand men. We have fought! We won our first skirmish, but we’ve lost everything since. There is honor for us, and more so if we save our troops from dying useless deaths in support of the men who murdered the Heartland!”

Quetzal nodded somberly. “It is impossible to keep such speculations from the common soldiers. All know about it. Anything, Brigadier Oaxnosh. We will do anything to survive!”

“They ask, Oath to Galzar. We would have to give up our weapons, but they will trade us one single shot musket for one of the new weapons. They say we will be marched to one of their towns that was destroyed by the man who commanded the warships here, there to work a year and a day rebuilding the town. I expect some of us will be set to work on Lashium as well.”

Sergeant Quetzal slid his rifle off his shoulder and held it out to Oaxnosh. “Done and done!”

Oaxnosh laughed. “I will tell Huixla!”

Huixla was standing in a crowd, mixed of soldiers and officers. There was no way to pull him off to the side, but as Oaxnosh listened, he saw there was no need. “Huixla, my division is rife with talk of mutiny. The men don’t want to die here, not for the Captain-General and not for a God-King who doesn’t show his face,” one of the other brigadiers stated.

Huixla nodded. “Most of the others agree. A few men will stand behind us and not surrender, but won’t oppose those of us who desire to end this.”

“We could be betrayed, they could disarm us and kill us,” another man said.

Oaxnosh rounded on the officer. “Denethon is here! You all know what he did for our brothers after Three Hills! Xitki Quillan is here, a man famous in all the lands for keeping his word! One of the generals here is Gamelin, Count of the Trygath, husband of Countess Judy. If he went back on his word, the High King would string him up by his entrails. Further, General Gamelin is a White Hair! Those are men known to all as true to their word.”

Huixla sided with Oaxnosh as they rode under a truce flag once again. “Mentioning Countess Judy, that was inspired, my friend!”

“She is the wife of Gamelin,” Oaxnosh said.

“And how many tales about her are told? And it seems as though each time the tales are told, they grow. Soldiers are natural gossips, it is why rumors fly so fast. They hear a story and want to repeat it as soon as they can, and are only too ready to add embellishments of their own.”

They met with more of their enemies. One man was obviously Xitki Quillan, another was Count Gamelin and the Ruthani who stood erect as a noble, as well as the junior lieutenant that had accompanied the Ruthani first.

“Yes, to your terms,” Huixla said. “Oath to Galzar, the weapons exchange and the year and day of service. We did not burn Lashium, but obviously if we hadn’t come, it would still stand. We offer some of our men to help rebuilding the town as well as helping to rebuild North Port.

“I realize that you will not wish to hear this, but we are beggars. Our logistos reports we have barely a moon quarter’s rations.”

Xitki Quillan looked at Huixla, piercing him with his gaze. “And was your shortage of rations part of your decision?”

“Count Quillan, the supply situation was only known to a few officers. Yes, it was a factor in my decision, but not a factor in the choice of our common soldiers.”

“And your Captain-General?” the count asked.

“We set him aside and he is currently trussed up and under guard. We offer him to you, to do with as you will. He is unlikely to survive one more day in our camp. The men are all aware that he was leading them to their deaths and they are in foul mood. A very foul mood!”

The Ruthani slapped his side, laughing. “We know how your men felt, so we brought him to our camp a palm width ago. The guards all live, although some will have headaches!”

Huixla looked Count Quillan in the eye. “It is done, then?”

“It is done. We are organizing the exchange points even now. With so many soldiers it cannot be done quickly. One last thing about the weapons exchange. Your men will be given fireseed equal to what they turn in. They may not load their weapons until told that they may. Anyone with a loaded weapon will have that weapon, his powder and shot, removed. If the man fires that weapon, under Oath to Galzar, he would be subject to the High King’s Field Regulations.”

“Our men are not familiar with those,” Oaxnosh told the count.

“Starting at once, the Field Regulations will be read to them every moon quarter–with your voice, you would be ideal for that, General. After six moons they would only have to hear them once a moon as do soldiers of the High King and his allies.”


	19. Messages

I

The Duke of Mexico stood at a large map in front of Tecpan’s High Council meeting chamber. There was quite a crowd of senior officers for Mexico and the Olmecha filling the room as well as the local notables. “We think Becal is going to launch the rest of their army against Xipototec, Tecpan or Zacateca. We have scouts watching them but so far their army only drills. We have heard from–other sources–that two hundred thousand troops were landed about a hundred miles west of South Port.

The duke continued, “I was concerned about them landing another two hundred thousand men, south of South March, but the transports aren’t back to Becal yet.

“Countess Judy, what do you hear from your husband?”

“He misses his rocking chair. That is code for all three forces are going to intercept the God-King’s soldiers before they reach the next town. That was yesterday, now we will have to await further information.”

Tanda Havra nodded. “We have given Vosper over five hundred code phrases, all that sound innocent or nonsensical. We have two thousand others that we send as well, dummies. ‘The fat man has a long nose.’ ’The cook is fat.’ Like that.” She turned to Judy. “He will be fine, Countess!”

“Waiting is hard,” the young countess said.

“Even hardened veterans get antsy waiting to hear the results of a battle. Particularly battles that they have no control over,” Tanda said.

A signal sergeant came in with new messages, bowed and left.

“Well?” Tuck asked Judy, who had been given the message.

“I think something unexpected has happened, one there was no code for. ‘Count Quillan fathered twins,’ and ‘There is joy in River City.’ The first means that the battle is still in the offing and the second is that the God’s King’s soldiers surrendered.”

Another messenger appeared, saluted, and said, “There is a long message coming in the Duke’s Special Code. This is the summary, I think.”

“Lieutenant, try not to think about the messages you convey. All you know is the ostensible sender, the ostensible recipient and that the contents are coded. All are top secret,” Judy said harshly.

“Yes, Countess!” The man handed Judy the message and hurried off, his face a flaming crimson.

“Judy?” asked Tuck after she had read the message.

“The code phrases were in a different order, but were the same.”

She looked up at her mentor and friend. “I think the God-King’s soldiers surrendered before there was a battle.”

“Holy Dralm!” Tuck exclaimed, “we thought we’d lose thousands of soldiers at the best!”

Another messenger appeared, this time a captain. He just handed the message to Tuck and said, “Six more parts coming for you, Lord Tuck!”

Tuck decoded it, and read the first part of the message. “‘The God-King’s men took up positions on a hill, obviously hoping for an attack, or so we thought.

“‘We were moving three armies into their assault positions, when a truce party came from the God-King’s troops. Some of the brigadiers had figured out the plan, and were unhappy to be sacrificed for the God-King. Evidently the new God-King doesn’t show his face and his retinue won’t show their faces either. The generals thought maybe the God-King was a ‘foreigner,’ their term for Styphon. The common soldiers believe that the ‘foreigners’ were responsible for the plague and the deaths of their people.’”

Tuck looked up. “Evidently it was a race between disillusioned generals and mutiny among the soldiers. Neither had any stomach for a fight and have surrendered _en masse_. Terms and conditions to follow, and then some recommendations for us. Zarthan lost a town of five thousand, most of whom had fled, and gained almost two hundred thousand men who have agreed to a year and a day of labor, Oath to Galzar,” Tuck said.

The rest of the message was received over the next palm width. A complete explanation of the terms, and last, but not least, some pithy sayings overheard from the God-King’s soldiers. Things like “A God-King who hides his face is no God-King” and a half dozen more comments that made it clear why the soldiers had been on the verge of mutiny.

“Any other army would have mutinied,” Tuck opined. “Only the threat of the pyramids kept them cohesive as long as they stayed together.” 

The Duke of Mexico grinned nastily. “You understand that ‘the Duke’s Special Code’ is a simple transposition code that even the God-King’s men can break. However, we will now start all messages, sent in the clear, with ‘A God-King who hides his face is no God-King.’ We’ve made no secret of the fact the we believe Styphon was behind the plague thus that message will close all of our signals in the clear. We will give the men of Becal more to worry about.

“Send the message to Zacateca and Zimapan in the clear, telling them of the defeat of the attack. Send the summary part of the long message to the High King, using my Special Code.”

Tanda Havra nodded in agreement. “At first, my husband, I had doubts about the wisdom of letting Becal know their attack came to naught, and even more doubts about letting them know how and why. But, on thought, this is going to make their soldiery unreliable. Very unreliable. Where the officers will be at great risk from their men, and the senior officers at great risk from their juniors.”

“One of the things my husband messaged is that they will ship the new weapons to us as fast as possible. A half moon, he thinks. Maybe three-quarters of a moon,” Judy added.

“It will take that long to distribute the new weapons and train the men in their use,” Tuck told them. “Worse, we are going to have limited ammunition to practice with. And, as the God-King’s men learned, we will have barely enough ammunition to fight one battle. We’ll have to travel with replacement weapons, bullets and fireseed as well.”

“Duke,” Judy said diffidently, “I have a question. Why haven’t the men of Becal moved against us long since? Yes, we would be sad if Zarthan lost a lot of soldiers, but they would have called up the militia and the God-King’s men would have been massacred at that point. There would have been only a short window where they might have found us shaken by the news.”

Tuck looked serious. “I think they were expecting to fight only the troops between where they landed and South Port. The Zarthani main body would have been behind them, when they marched on South Port, and maybe, if they did well, they could have reached South March. Burning those two towns would have put a big crimp in Zarthan.

“On the other hand, what if they never expected the attack to succeed? What if they thought we’d do just what we did–send troops from Zacateca? Suppose they lunge at King Xyl, intending on destroying his army, regardless of cost?

“That would leave us in good shape to take over all of Mexico. But that could be a lot of mouthfuls to chew. There is clearly a conspiracy against all of the governments of Hostigos, Mexico and Zarthan. Perhaps the conspiracy is being driven by nations, unknown to us, far to our west?” Tuck suggested.

Of a certainty, Tuck was talking about Japan or China, Judy thought. What were they like here and now? It was scary to think that the plague had probably come from the west coast of Africa. Was there a civilization that extended from Africa, through Asia to China to Japan? Was Europe part of that as well?

She drew herself up to her full height, now more than six feet, towering over most of those in the room. “I think I can see the problems, Duke Tuck. I fear the worst. The attack on Lashium was a dress rehearsal. We have heard that some of the Great Western Ocean is to be scouted, when Zarthan finishes its warships, but that is not expected for a while. The High King has sent warships across the Eastern Ocean, but they report barbarians with tools only little better than the original Zarthani had when they landed here long ago. Bronze weapons and boiled leather for armor.

“We know that warships arrive from the west with weapons and take back grain.”

“Yes,” Tuck told the assembled group.

“On a more immediate note, we need to pass the word to our allies that Becal may strike out in the next few days, when the leaders get the word that their attack has failed, and before the common folk learn about it. They will have to either march before the commoners, and the common soldiers learn about why the attack was defeated, or they won’t be able to trust their soldiers. And that will be that for the God-King’s followers.”

The meeting promptly broke up. Judy stopped Colonel Legios, the former Hostigi mortar commander and now the head of the Olmechan mortars. “I understand you did not like being ordered to stay in Zacateca, and not accompanying your guns to Zarthan.”

“Countess, in truth, Zacateca doesn’t have that many mortars and I am of more use teaching the Olmecha how to shoot those few that remain,” the young officer said.

“And your wife is third in line for the throne, and the only one in the succession not a soldier.”

“The daughter-in-law of the former God-King didn’t fare well on her own. Maya is devoted to seeing her brothers safe.”

“Ride like the wind, Colonel, and make sure Xyl and Maya are safe. Don’t take the usual route. We have been betrayed often enough.”

“Not even my escort knows the route I’ll choose, Countess! There are too many traitors abroad!”

With that, he was gone, escorted by two hundred of the finest soldiers of the Olmecha.

Judy stood for a moment, thinking then returned to Tuck’s private quarters, where Tuck and his wife were talking.

“I have noticed something, Tuck,” she told him.

Tuck raised an eyebrow and Tanda chuckled. “Something obvious, I assume!”

Judy stuck her tongue out at Tanda and then spoke. “We found two of my husband’s hangers-on that were passing information to the men of Becal. But they didn’t suicide when they were found out. They passed their information to different men, but those men passed the information to one man. The two intermediaries did not suicide either. The final link was to a messenger to Becal. That man didn’t kill himself either when caught.

“We have now caught about a dozen in Tecpan who are working for Becal, and none have suicided. On the other hand, these men know very little. They are God-King loyalists and have only two or three contacts, and those contacts all came back to one man who also knows nothing. How have you been doing?”

“The same, Judy. They have adopted cell structure, with information control,” Tuck said.

“I have told Tuck that my people are capable of playing tricks with someone’s memories. Anything that they might have known in the past is gone now,” Tanda lamented.

“Evidently they are running short of agents,” Judy said.

“There is no way to tell, Judy. They might have had agents who knew too much, and we got to them. My people have weapons that do not leave any overt traces,” Tanda Havra told Judy.

“Still, it is a change, and may or may not signal anything, but they most likely had a reason for that change.”

“They could just be taking extra precautions,” Tuck warned.

“They changed their pattern of operations,” Judy said stubbornly.

“Judy, we keep changing our codes. Not because we know they are reading our mail, but to be as safe as we can be.”

“A girl can hope,” Judy lamented.

Tanda Havra was brusque. “Hope is not a strategy and an even worse tactic.”

“Hope is better to hold on to than despair,” Tuck challenged his wife. “It is a piece of information that may or may not be important and needs to have multiple sources to confirm.”

He spoke directly to Judy. “You need to assemble your First Tecpan Rifles and get to Tecpan as quickly as you can. Probably the troops from Becal will be moving even before you get home.”

“Lydia will be ready,” Judy told the others.

“This would be a bad time for the wheels to come off. Leem is gone, Gamelin and Vosper, and Gryllos...” Tanda Havra warned.

Judy laughed. “You sent General Andromoth to command the military in Tecpan while Gamelin is absent. In spite of the fact he is distressingly close to twice Lydia’s age, I’m sure he is sweet on her. The Alcalde is holding onto his post by a thread, as Lydia is ten times the politician he is. The Kumiai sisters have put Elder Sister up opposing him. Guess what the sisters are serving up to voters who pledge to vote for them?”

“Her, you mean?” Tanda asked.

“Nope. No one is silly enough to believe Younger Sister won’t be right there at Elder Sister’s elbow. And of course, the Alcalde is term-limited to two two-year terms. The Town Council voted that in right after we knew the results of the plague in the Heartland. They all wanted a turn, and figure that they will have an inside track once the current Alcalde is out of office. They never expected the Kumiai sisters.”

Tuck laughed. “If we would have had Lydia in Nam, we would have had a lot easier time winning ‘hearts and minds.’ Time to go, Judy!”

II

A moon later Judy met with her friend, Lydia Valenzuela. “The soldiers of Becal are still not moving?” Judy asked.

“Leem is back, and our Seals report their soldiers are still encamped around the walls of Becal. Gamelin is due back in two or three days with three quarters of the new weapons. They will drop off a quarter at Xipototec, bring half here and forward some of the weapons to Hestophes in Zimapan. Some he dropped off at Outpost and Count Errock will send samples to the High King.”

“Why haven’t they moved? The common soldiers have to know that the attack on Zarthan failed badly,” Judy queried Lydia.

“I think Tuck’s plan, sending the messages in the ‘Duke’s Special Code’ as well as the headers and trailers in the clear to our messages spread the word faster than either side had anticipated. They may be trying to deal with a million rebellious soldiers. I’ve talked to Tuck and he says that it’s easy to get reliable soldiers: you kill a few thousand and then promise the sun, moon, and the stars to the ones remaining.”

“Not a morale booster, then,” Judy commented.

“We still don’t have any specific information on the situation in Becal. We don’t have anything on how many and what other types of new weapons they have in the city. I’m sure Tuck is aware how different new weapons could be. Weapons as far above ours back in America, as ours were ahead of the High King’s.”

“Should we even be talking about this? We know their espionage techniques are as far ahead as their weapons,” Judy asked.

“Tuck says to worry about things we can deal with. Assume both the cops and robbers are listening to everything we say.”

“How do we stop it?”

Lydia shrugged. “So far as I know, we can’t. Back at home they could make transmitters very small.”

Judy remembered something. “My brother was stationed in the Moscow Embassy and he said that they kept finding Russian microphones in the walls, in the furniture...everywhere. The US used Russian nationals to build our Embassy and some of them–many of them–were really KGB agents. They bought the furniture locally as well, and everything was filled with bugs.”

“I wish I could sneak a tape recorder into the Becal inner sanctum,” Lydia said and then sighed. “But we don’t have a recorder, we don’t have any tapes and we don’t have access to that room.”

Judy nodded. “Changing the subject, I got word from a friend at Outpost that Manistewa had ‘gone north’ to visit his family. That was about a half moon before every other of Manistewa’s friends left. From what Puma said about him, it wasn’t a surprise.

“Do you suppose they all have really have left?” Judy concluded.

“Sure. A lot of people left Hostigos around the same time. General Verkan and his wife, among many others.”

“I would think that would make the men of Becal even more anxious to toss the dice, because if they have cut this time stream off from other time streams it has to have effected their plans enormously,” Judy hypothesized to Lydia.

“You would think. But it comes back to their army: if they can’t count on it the calculus would change. It might be that they have to take a few steps back and consolidate their power base.

“I noticed that King Xyl did things differently than the God-King and his soldiers did. They were very reluctant to make changes in the way they did things. That whole business about the Zarthani–and the Hostigi–knowing their battle plan in advance,” Lydia said. “My grandfather was a sailor in the Second World War in the Pacific. I would listen to he and his cronies talk about it. They never talked about what they personally did, but they talked in general terms. I remember they said that the Japanese were like the God-King’s men: rigid and reluctant to change tactics.

“The first battle, Pearl Harbor, we were surprised and they kicked our butts. The second big battle, Midway, we had started changing our tactics and we kicked their butts. After that, we had their number. They never changed and we just creamed them.”

Judy sighed. “So, if we adapt, and they don’t, we may win.”

“That’s about it. Tuck is...words fail me. He was the right person for the situation. His skill set fit the needs of the High King and Count Errock. That and he had a lot of luck going for him, but not as much as I once thought. He made his own luck,” Lydia said.

“You realize that the two of us are no longer teenagers?” Judy changed the subject.

“Yes, but I think...Judy you stopped being a teenager at Tarr Dombra. I grew up in the plague year.”

“I can still close my eyes and be back there,” Judy lamented.

“The smells of the plague will haunt me till the day I die,” Lydia admitted.

Judy laughed. “Don’t remind me!”

One of the signalers came in. “Countess, I knew you wanted to see this at once.” He held out a message form and Judy took it.

Judy read it and passed it to Lydia. “Gryllos was a good choice to send north–now he’s been in another battle. Won it, too.”

Lydia read the message and smiled. “Indeed, Countess. However, the treason is still out there, it tells us that. I wonder if this Colonel Ahsuhl knew that the God-King’s attack in the south had failed and he was desperate to escape.”

“There is an apology for being cut off from communication for more than a moon. This Ahsuhl may well have known.”

III

Gryllos was used to being summoned to the navy office in North Port; it was the center of things, after all.

Countess Noia didn’t make him wait, but invited him right into her office. “Your Countess has been heard from, Major. Considering we have had the signal system working through to Baytown only three days, that is a fast response. I told you that an invasion by the men of Becal was defeated. It was quite an amazing story, if you will recall.”

Gryllos chuckled politely. “Lady Countess, quite amazing! That your King would let more than a half million Olmechan soldiers to pass through his lands was stunning. The plan they used to defeat the attack was worthy of Duke Tuck at his best! And it wasn’t orchestrated by the duke, Count Quillan or General Denethon, but Count Gamelin, Tuck’s pupil and Cambon of the Olmecha.”

“The news is that the men of Becal, the God-King’s supporters and the remnants of Styphon, are still encamped around the town of Becal and have not essayed to strike Mexico.”

“That is good news! It may have been that the attack was a diversion to weaken Mexico.”

“Yes, and the man I told you about, the sea captain, has returned to Bay Town and reported to King Freidal and should be here in a moon quarter to be debriefed in detail. Be sure to alert your gun crews to expect him.”

“I’ll remind them, Countess.”

She looked at Gryllos and seemed to psych herself up. “There was an old man here, before my brother came to power. He said many things, advice for me. About the sea, about life.”

Gryllos had come to really like the countess. He heard only the words “There was a man...”

She saw his expression and laughed. “You don’t know it, but your expression tells me he was right. Sometimes you have to take the bull by the horns. That phrase has been in our language since time began.”

She laughed again. “It’s easy to avoid decisions when you are afraid. I would walk with you tonight, Major. My friend told me that the human race would have died out long ago if neither men nor women were willing to take the bull by the horns.”

“Countess, I’m just a major,” Gryllos gargled in shock.

“I have an admission for you, Gryllos. I am not actually a countess yet. The Council has not formally heard the charges against my brother, so he remains legally the Count of North Port, and I am a mere pretender. Granted, as soon as he appears in front of the Council he will be set aside, but the Counts of the Council are jealous of their prerogatives, and will not move against a man who can’t speak in his own defense. So, legally, I’m a just a minor noble with no lands.”

She looked him in the eye. “I am terrified that you will say ‘no’ or worse–laugh.”

“You will always be a countess to me. I am terrified that I am dreaming or worse, that you think I wish to rise above my place.”

“One of the last things my brother said to me before I left was that I was not to go down to the market and haggle with the fish-wives for our dinner. I was good at haggling! I was always an ugly duckling.”

“What say we both put our fears aside and go walking this evening?” Gryllos told her.

She nodded. “My friend told me that you just have to get past the first thirty heartbeats of bowel-watering fear in your first battle, and you are good to go for the rest of your life.

“At the Wagon Box fight, I made it past thirty heartbeats. I forgot his words until today.”

“I was terrible in school; someone probably told me that, but I wasn’t listening. I’ve since learned the importance of paying attention,” Gryllos said.

“Gryllos–tell me true. Am I ugly?”

“At home, it was a joke men told amongst themselves. The one question you had to avoid was if your wife asked: ‘Do you think I look fat?’

“Noia, some women are pretty on the outside, and there is no gainsaying you’re not one of them. But some people, not just women, have a special glow on the inside that lights up the world around them. That’s you, Noia. And I would be happy to walk with you.”

IV

_“Nemesis_ will be launched the day after tomorrow, _Our Promise_ two days later,” the countess told the assembled yard workers of North Port. “Ten moons of sustained effort to get two done at once, and we built slips for two more ships, and after _Our Promise_ floats, we will be working on four ships,” the Countess of North Port told the assembled spectators.

She looked around at the men, and the occasional woman, of her audience. “We have craftsman coming from all over Zarthan, some as far away as South March, to join the effort and learn about these ships. In the coming moons, they will go home and start building ships everywhere up and down the coast. Soon, the Western Ocean will fill with our ships!

“One of our captains has already sailed a third of the way across the Western Ocean. He brought back valuable intelligence as well as the man who ruled those islands and who the scum from Styphon usurped his rule.

“Make no doubt about it! We will hunt down these vermin on the high seas and the low places they lurk! We will hound them unto the ends of the Earth, but our determination to bring these foul beasts justice will know no bounds! Wherever we have to go!”


	20. The Meeting

I

Tandra Havra looked up when Puma came into her office. “Tanda, your uncle’s man, Xenos, wishes a moment of your time. He says he has a message for you and the duke.”

Tanda secretly smiled. That story that her uncle wanted to marry her, but had been spurned with Tanda choosing Tuck instead, had been of great value before their marriage and even now was proving very useful after all these years. Her staff treated anyone from her uncle as a possible enemy–which, while not entirely true, was a close enough approximation.

“Tell him to come in. You’d better stay outside, but close.”

“Yes, Tanda!”

Xenos was a man of medium height, medium build, with black hair and dusky skin. Puma let him in, then closed the door behind her, standing with her back to the door.

“I hate being treated like an enemy scout,” he said with irritation.

“Xenos, that’s because to them, you are an enemy scout. I knew you were coming this way two days ago; scouts have dogged your every step.”

He reached into his belt and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “This is for the Duke. Sergeant Manistewa says it’s too sensitive for the likes of me–or you.”

Tanda unfolded it and recognized the script and language even if she didn’t know it well. “I will see the Duke gets this at once,” she said evenly.

“It wasn’t our fault,” Xenos said in their own language, his voice angry. “When the plague came the Chief pulled us all back. Not for fear we’d get sick–but for full psych evaluations. Everybody on the time line got their brains searched with a fine-tooth comb.”

“And a half dozen Paratime Police suicided rather than go home,” she observed. “Explanation enough why the Chief was concerned and the importance of what was done. Return to Sergeant Manistewa and tell him the message was delivered.”

“I’m supposed to return your reply at once.”

“Then go out into the outer office and bitch and moan to Puma about how no one trusts you...ask what you can do earn her respect.”

“After Shuria?” he shuddered.

“Yes. Then, head north. As soon as you get outside of town drop a message ball set to head home an hour later. Be discrete.”

He nodded his head, turned and left. He glared at Puma, still standing just outside the door, which brought a smile to Tanda’s face. Puma hadn’t known what they’d just said, but her hostility hadn’t changed.

Her smile faded a moment later and she waved to Puma. “A message for the Duke. I’ll be with him. Best not let anyone disturb us for a while.” Puma nodded. Tanda followed the younger woman with her eyes. She’d much rather have Tazi here, than Puma. But Tazi was dead, and had been dead for years. You had to do the best you could with what you had–and Puma was pretty good.

She went through a door in the back of her office, down a short hall and into her husband’s office. He was leaning back in a chair, reading a report. He looked up and smiled. “Tanda, a welcome break!”

She smiled sadly and waved the paper. “Don’t be so sure. This is for you. I suspect it’s from the Chief.”

He grimaced and took it. He read it in a glance. “This is interesting. We’ve been talking about holding a high level meeting...but the consensus is that it would be too dangerous and take too long. General Verkan’s wife has, however, offered us a ride to a ‘principles’ meeting. Me, the High King, Countess Judy and Queen Elspeth.” He paused for a second. “As his guests, at an unspecified location. And oh, yes...her husband will be there.”

Tanda felt a cold shiver run down her back. “That’s every one of you from the Hispano-Columbian Timeline knows that their precious ‘secret’–or who might reasonably be expected to know it. Strange that Lady Becky and Lady Lydia aren’t included. Me too.”

He nodded. “They said there would be days like this. When you are playing for all the marbles and have to decide one way or the other.”

“Can we get a message to Kalvan? That he should stay home?”

Tuck shrugged. “You know the truth of it. They could kill anyone who stayed home as easy as they’d kill the rest of us. Even if he survived, what would they do?”

“She’s a clever woman,” Tanda said bitterly.

“I doubt if they’d appoint a stupid woman to that job. I don’t think a stupid woman could have held it as long as she has, considering from what we know, against considerable domestic opposition.”

“So all we can do is agree. When is this meeting?”

Tuck sighed. “In three hours, after we are supposed to retire for the evening.”

“I suppose there is no point in putting it off. Still, we have to do something. There has to be someone in charge–if something untoward were to happen.”

“You prepared a succession document some time ago.”

“I did. Then I cleverly hid it. Now I’m thinking I was too clever. Call Reaci in, would you?”

“Our son’s current nanny?”

“Yes.”

Tanda went not very far and brought back John on her hip and a young Ruthani woman.

Tuck looked at Reaci. “Sometimes our duty extends to things we never imagined. You read and write the language of the Lost Ruthani, do you not?”

“Yes, Duke. I was told that I needed to know it to have this job.”

Tuck scribbled something on a piece of paper, folded it and handed it to her. “There are times our duty is nothing worse than changing soiled nethers. There are times when our duty is awe-inspiring, terrifyingly difficult. I am sorry, Reaci, but I have an additional duty for you.” He handed her the paper.

“Take that, hide it where you can’t lose it. There are people, you understand, Reaci, that wish Tanda and I harm?”

“Yes, Duke. And your son! It won’t happen while I live!”

“Tanda and I rule here. John is our heir. If something were to happen to one or both of us, he would become a target. Your task would become a thousand times more difficult–as it became a thousand times more important.” He still held the paper, which she also held lightly. “This is the names of those I wish to rule in John’s name, until he is of age. If something should happen to the three of us, these people would command until the High King named someone in our place. This is not a simple duty, Reaci.”

“I understand, Duke! I will see to it that it is delivered!”

“It’s intended for General Andromoth and Lady Puma; both together if possible. Patience is important in something like this.” He folded her fingers over the paper.

“Tanda and I will do our best, I assure you, not to get killed.”

Tuck and Tanda had an early supper, and then hugged their son as he was put down for the night. Then the two of them repaired to their bedchambers. When a woman appeared, Tuck lightly kissed his wife and docilely followed the woman to a device about the size of a medium size sedan, although spherical, rather than elongated.

Tuck said nothing as they moved away, the rainbow colors that he’d seen once before, coruscating in shimmering ripples. He tried to look relaxed, but it was a stretch. Finally the woman led him through a corridor and into a large room.

Verkan Vall was there and his wife, the former Chief and current chiefs of the Paratime Police–the people who policed the alternate timelines. To one side was the High King looking distrustful, and Queen Elspeth–one of the four of Judy’s classmates who’d come through the same rainbow sparkles so long ago.

“I think only Tuck and his students will know what you are seeing,” the Chief of the Paratime cops said. Behind him a screen raised, showing a blue sphere behind him, speckled with white. Tuck sucked air. Tuck hadn’t seen many pictures like this, but he’d seen some.

“I know that we all know each other, some well, some at least by reputation and considerable correspondence. There is a natural tendency to try to be as friendly as possible in a strange situation. All of you have experience in trying to exchange peaceful greetings. Still, because of the nature of this meeting, I am going to insist on formality. I’m Chief of the Paratime Police, Hadron Dalla. Next to me is my husband, Chief Emeritus of the Paratime Police. Please don’t make the mistake thinking I got the job because he’s my husband. He is nearly as capable as I am. Nearly.

“I’ve called you here for several reasons. This is part apology, part a plan of moving ahead.

“First, I need to give you some background. I suspect that only Duke Tuck has heard the term ‘quantum theory’ although it is possible that others of his friends have as well. I doubt if any of them have much understanding of the subject.

“This is not meant in a derogatory sense–it’s a very complicated field and scholars from all timelines take centuries to master it.

“Our best theory about what we call ‘reality’ is a convergence of quantum possibilities. At any instant, the one we call ‘the present’ is when all of the possibilities collapse into a single event.

“This was a scientific curiosity on my home world for a long time–as it is everywhere else. No one found a way to prove the theories, one way or another.

“Some events are less likely than others. On my Home Time Line, two young people had invitations to a party. Neither of them were partygoers; neither was gregarious or outgoing. We found only one time line where the two young people went to the same party–ours. To reduce the odds of a similar event happening, they both had to relieve themselves about the same time, were equally thirsty and queued up to a table that served non-alcoholic drinks at the same time. A couple of other young people, also not duplicated anywhere else that we found, were discussing an applied engineering problem. Antrim Hestor, the son of the man who co-discovered paratemporal transposition, overheard the conversation. He offered a suggestion that one of the first two young men was attempting to savage on the ‘not invented here’ paradigm.

“Shala Ghaldron also took issue with the man’s arguments–they offended her–and she was quite sure he was fundamentally wrong. Ghaldron and Hestor demolished all the puny arguments they faced and realized that they were essentially in agreement. One thing led to another from that meeting. The two were geniuses who could make the wildest engineering concept work. They fit together like a hand in a glove.

“Their parents, both widowers, never expected their children would fall so fast, so hard, in love. Both men were relatively wealthy from their inventions and were concerned that the other’s child was a ‘gold digger.’ They quickly recognized who the other was and shared a good laugh, because their children would never lack for wherewithal. They became friends, then fast friends. We’ve never found another timeline where they even met.

“One thing led to another and they came up with a theory concerning paratemporal transposition. Their children built the first conveyor...they essayed the first venture into paratime, over their parents vehement objections.

“More background: our society was in the process of slow collapse. We’d run out of resources; we’d reached fundamental limits to what we could extract from the planet and there was no more. Each generation had less than the one before it. We were desperate to find a way around the problem.

“I make no apologies. Our society was fascinated with death and reincarnation. It was a contradiction–the only way we could guarantee more for our children than we had, was not to have children.

“We spent most of our efforts researching what most timelines believe is the paranormal, not in the physical sciences. People like the Ghaldrons and Hesthors were aberrations, not at all the norm.

“To make a long story short, the two young people discovered many new timelines, those we currently label ‘Second Level.’ There were thousands of them; most of them were failed timelines–humanity had destroyed itself; most often in nuclear war, but occasionally in mass suicide. It wasn’t a pleasant set of universes to explore.

“Some, however, had discovered space travel and were doing well...”

Hadron Dalla nodded. “To my people’s eternal shame, we ignored those people who’d gone into space to find more resources, and fixed instead on all those empty planets where either our race slaughtered each other or just slit their own throats. Most of those worlds had been seriously depleted of their resources, but we’d learned a great deal about how to recover what we needed. And of course, we had lots and lots of planets to avail ourselves on.

“We kept exploring. We found another tier of timelines; ones not so badly devastated as the Second Level. Some of them, though, had killed themselves, and they’d never reached levels where they could begin to extract everything. That kept us happy and content–that some of them had also gone into space made no never mind. We didn’t need to go into space to loot those empty worlds.

“About then some cultural–I don’t know a word to describe such people–anthropologists wanted to go back to the old days. To them, space was a frontier, and they went out to Mars and Venus. We had access to all sorts of research from other timelines, which we simply expropriated for ourselves. We terraformed our two closest neighbors. Mars was simple; Venus was harder, but we did it too–those who did it tried to live simpler lives than the rest of us.

“No one cared.

“We discovered the Fourth Level. It was far larger than the others, but only a few planets were devoid of life...most cultures hadn’t had time to develop the technology to destroy themselves. Mostly our social scientists were interested in the various cultures, and there wasn’t much pressure to steal their resources.

“That was about a thousand years after Ghaldron and Hestor. Scientific research had all but collapsed. Why bother? You could pay some college on another timeline trinkets and they’d teach you whatever you needed to know.

“Research into paratemporal transportation consisted of shrinking the devices to accomplish it–using techniques developed on other timelines. Until finally someone started trying to put together what we’d learned...two and a half millennia late.

“It was a short-lived wonder. Timelines, if left unvisited, grew like topsy. One visit, by one person ‘froze’ a timeline. It became unique. We hared off after the differences. We developed a series of methods to determine if any of us had visited a timeline before. There were a lot of false positives; gradually we developed ‘quantum signatures.’ Those worked, and for the first time we realized that there were unique timelines and just how they came to exist.

“Right in the middle of that our explorations carried us to the Fifth Level. There are no inhabited timelines on the Fifth Level. Cornucopia!

“That’s when we finally, totally lost our way as a civilization. Suddenly, we needed a lot more people to properly exploit the new resources that we’d found. Moreover, there were jobs at home that weren’t all that nice–so we found willing ‘volunteers’ on other timelines. They had no idea what was happening, where they were or anything else. All they knew was that we were will to pay them the equivalent of great riches where they came from if they did our bidding.

“At first our labor contracts were reasonable–but people from the Home Time Line became uneasy–those primitive people, if they compared their stories might realize the truth. So we invented the Paratime Secret and began to hide behind it.

“For a very long time we never thought about it. We needed those resources–even though we had essentially discovered an infinity of resources. None of the space-faring races had found such a source of easy-to-obtain resources as we had. None had, in fact, come close. They found enough to keep their civilizations working well; we simply grasped at more and more. We knew no boundaries.

“There were problems along the way. People were swept up in conveyors inadvertently. They had committed no crime beyond being at the wrong place at the wrong time. We killed them automatically. It didn’t take any thought–they were threats to our secret.”

He bobbed his head at the High King. “I couldn’t kill Calvin Morrison. Not only hadn’t he done anything wrong, it was clear he had to know the Paratime Secret–and he was keeping it as well, or better, than we could.

“Our technology is far beyond anything even he knew. So we had no problems monitoring his every word. I placed the recordings under seal–that was fortunate because it was clear he did indeed know the Paratime Secret. He shared it freely with his wife. I personally understood the loyalty between committed spouses–not all of those on Home Time Line would have.

“I’m sorry about what happened next. I’d never had a chance to hear the unvarnished opinion of anyone about what we did as a matter of course. The High King was cautious, trying to speak in environments where he was sure he couldn’t be monitored.” Chief Hadron bowed to him.

“You are better person than I, Corporal Morrison. You held me and my people in contempt–but you didn’t want to visit vengeance on me or mine. You were primitives–you should have wanted our guts for garters. Instead you pitied us. You understood us better than we did. It was sobering.

“I had far more critical problems to address–so I turned to them–compared to you they were simple. You were, so far as I was concerned, not a threat, not a problem.

“I ignored practically everything about your timeline. Then along came Duke Tuck and his young people. It was a shock. It was clear from almost at once that they’d been transported by accident–except it hadn’t been in an authorized conveyor. Even so, I was slow off the mark. Before I knew it, my nose was being rubbed in all sorts of shortcomings of those of the Home Time Line. I wish I could say that such things were unique–alas, they were too common. Ignored, but common.

“Not only was I slow off the mark, I was misled terribly about the nature and extent of the threat. One day my husband rubbed my nose in what was going on–he wasn’t mired in the day-to-day minutiae of my job. That’s when I realized just how serious the problem was. Is.

“Now, I’ve called this meeting. It’s been a few years now, and we have devoted enormous amounts of effort into studying the problem. Then, this last weekend, Zarthan ran into your enemies equipped with Outtime weapons–machine guns and cannon.

“Many of my own people despaired. This was a violation of our basic policy towards the peoples of the distant timelines–we didn’t transfer Outtime weapons, except for our personal use and then rarely and under extraordinarily tight controls.

“I cheated; I freely admit to having cheated. You are the first to hear me say it publicly. For years our science has stagnated–other timelines have far surpassed us. We quit trying. The one subject that no one came close to us in was in the field of paratemporal transposition. No one else knew it existed.

“I started a dozen research projects, right after the High King arrived on the scene. Our researchers redoubled their efforts when Duke Tuck arrived.

“Thus, I’ve brought you here to make a momentous announcement.

“Yes, what we do on inhabited timelines in unconscionable. If we gather up someone by accident, it goes from unconscionable to inexplicable and thence to inexcusable. We kill people to protect us from our mistakes–not because they’ve done anything wrong.

“Some of my people were interested in what makes a timeline unique. We visit–and that suffices. In retrospect, now we understand quite well that when you collapse enough probabilities, you affect more than just a few.

“I won’t describe the research further. They found that it was possible to make a timeline not only unique, but also impenetrable to our conveyors. No further changes from the outside could happen...We could cut off any unique time line from all other timelines.

“Very soon we are going to do that to this timeline. The High King’s advent made this a unique timeline. Our scholars thought that Duke Tuck’s advent might cause it to branch, but unique timelines are just that: unique.”

“In short,” Judy Bondi said, “you’re going to leave us to our own devices.”

“Essentially,” Chief Hadron agreed. “We intend to clean up some unfinished business first.”

The High King’s voice was cat’s paw soft. “Define ‘business.’ Define ‘clean up.’”

“Your enemies have bases on the east coast of Africa, the west coast of Mexico, the south coast of one of the Hawaiian Islands, one the east coast of Japan and at the confluence of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. We will eliminate them and their Outtime weapons.”

“What do you mean by ‘eliminate?’” the High King asked.

Hadron Dalla stared at him. “Even you’ve been cautious about using the words.”

“Over my dead body,” Calvin Morrison said. “Over the bodies of my wife and children. I will have no part on this. Yes, there are some unspeakable enemies in those places...but there are millions going about their lives quietly, peacefully and who have no desire to hurt anyone.”

Tuck looked at the Paratime policeman. “Chief Hadron, there is nothing I know of that I can do to stop you. But if you do this, I will forever hold you and yours as despicable cowards who could never break themselves of their habit of playing god. You would kill millions of men, women and children–for what? To salve your conscience over how poorly you govern? To cover for your mistakes? They’ve done you no crime, and those of them who wish to harm us–well, we’re willing to meet them on the battlefield. This is the way of things here, in this place. What you want is an obscenity.”

Judy Bondi lifted her chin. “We had to hide, growing up, from those weapons. There is no defense beyond death. Luck controls survival and nothing else. This is a monstrous, terrible thing you wish–I will have no part in it. My husband is one of the innocents in this. He took the surrender of two hundred thousand soldiers of Becal, because he–and others–have no taste for slaughter. How dare you involve my husband in this foul choice?”

Elspeth raised her chin, as had the others. “I’m a mother; a little slow on the uptake, even slower to put my family on the block. Still, now I understand what you’re proposing. Kill me first; I don’t want this on my conscience, on my husband’s or my children’s. Kill us all–don’t try to use us to justify this.”

“A great many of your people will die if we don’t eliminate your enemies,” Dalla told them. “Then there is reincarnation–those who die will all get another chance.”

“Perhaps,” the High King rejoined. “But our people will die with a clear conscience, having been intent on killing their enemies–not their wives and children. Not destroying their cities.”

“Cities have been destroyed often enough,” Hadron Dalla remonstrated.

“And now I teach otherwise,” the High King retorted.

Judy spoke. “You are a clever woman, Chief Hadron. The history you described to us was that of a people trying to better themselves. This is the opposite.

“There is an easier way, I think. The true gods despise Styphon and the Mexicotal God-king. Surely you could arrange a very convincing vision of god-sized individuals condemning pygmy-sized Styphon and the God-King as heretical; shunned by the true gods.”

The Chief of the Paratime Police stared at her for a moment, and her husband spoke. “That might work. It’s better than the other–we can always do the other. I told my husband that our ancestors would be appalled at the proposal.”

“If our enemies think they could lose–they might have the wherewithal to retaliate,” Duke Tuck said levelly. “We stand to lose as much or more than they do. What is the purpose of such slaughter? Better to just sterilize the planet and have done with us.”

“If you nuke them and then cut them off, they are going to think they’ve lost–what would stop retaliation then? How many timelines have died on the assumption that one side or the other would stop?” the High King continued.

“My God!” Lady Dalla said, pointing to the wall behind them. “Have you even seen a spider that big?”

Most anyone would have turned to look. Not the High King, not Tuck, Judy, or Elspeth. They saw the Lady Dalla thump her husband on the back of his head. The former chief of the Paratime Police looked at his wife askance, then lifted his eyes and saw who was watching.

“We will implement the break in a short time. It will last from one to three years and then there will be a brief period when we turn if off, to get the last of our people out. By then we will shut ourselves in our Home Time Line. We have a unique timeline. Space is out there; we’ve already got a solid presence there. We will simply have expand upon that.

“The device that controls this has a limited lifespan; one day it will incinerate itself. Don’t even bother to look for it. For statistical purists, your closest approach hasn’t varied within four decimal places–and it could be much smaller.”

The woman who’d led Tuck to the meeting reappeared and he followed her once again. In short order he was back in the palace in Xipototec.

*** ** ***

“Are we really free?” Tuck asked his wife, after he related what had happened.

“There is nothing like this in all of the stories I’ve heard. I have no idea. Still, I would be careful for as far ahead as the eye can see.” She looked at him curiously. “The weapon they were talking about using on our enemies–I don’t understand why you don’t want to see it used on them.”

“One city, one bomb,” Tuck told her. “If one was used on this town, every building would be leveled, every man, woman and child in its walls would die, as would every living thing, down to the cockroaches. People miles away who saw the explosion would forever be blind and some of them would be killed as well. Those weapons do not discriminate about who or what they kill.

“There are those in Becal who deserve any punishment we might offer to them...but there are far, far more whose only crime was to be born in the wrong town. Those weapons are like trying to use artillery shells of the largest size to kill the smallest nit.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “Surely some would live! Many lived when the fireseed store at the Zarthani fort exploded! People survived on the pyramid in Tenosh, when the Lion of the Ruthani killed the God-king! Surely not everyone!”

He took her in his arms. “You’ve seen the craters explosive shells leave, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet wife, the woman who I cherish as much as life itself–if one of those bombs went off in Xipototec, the crater would include the entire city–perhaps half the way to the main barracks. There would be nothing left but the hole in the ground. No city, no buildings–no people. Nothing. Not one stone left on another, no sign beyond the crater that anything had ever been there before.

“More, any who came to look would sicken and die from unseen poisons. Not just for days, but for years afterwards.”

Tanda stared at him. “Why would anyone build such a weapon?”

He sniffed. “We thought we needed it. We didn’t dare not build it, in case our enemies did. A million reasons. We destroyed two cities larger than Xipototec–but in defense of our fell deed we told those we were going to destroy for days that their city was marked for destruction before we actually did it. When we did, we tried to reduce the damage as much as possible. None denied it was a fell deed. At the time we told ourselves we had to do it, or we would have had to invade their country. They too were ruled by a God-King who demanded total devotion–in their case, every man, woman and child and their lands old enough to bear weapons had promised to die trying to kill even one of us. They meant it. On an island they owned more than fifty thousand of their people killed themselves rather than allow themselves to be captured. They weren’t as good as our soldiers–two of them died killing one of us.

“Tanda, we killed or wounded a hundred thousand people in a few weeks of fierce fighting, they killed or wounded half that many of us. It was the bloodiest battle my nation ever fought.

“I wish we hadn’t; the High King was caught in one of the wars that resulted in the years that followed and I was caught up in another. None of the major powers could afford to fight each other directly–so we each plotted and intrigued to get small kings on the periphery of things to attack our enemies. A great many people died in those wars–but we were afraid of what would happen if things got out of hand. We tried to be careful.”

She shook her head. “Your people were mad. These enemies of Chief Hadron are mad. But I think I understand now why you and the High King were horrified. Judy and Elspeth were equally upset.”

“We’ve all seen pictures of what the weapons can do. I know all we can do is talk to Chief Hadron. Our people weren’t very smart. Her people have been willfully blind for a very long time.”

“And you don’t number me among them?”

“You were a sop to their consciences. They lifted some of you from the depths of barbarism, put a light coat of civilized polish on you and set you to work cleaning toilets and changing nethers. A few of the brighter ones of your people were allowed to carry the pencils of some of their scholars...nothing technical, of course, because that would have opened too many doors.”

“I don’t know if there is traces of what I was taught not to think–or it’s too humbling or horrific to face. I almost never think about it.”

She turned brisk. “What are we going to do?”

“Continue as we’ve been. Oh, we’ll pass secret messages to the kings, where we will agree that we have to be on our guard against our enemies. We’ve never had any real idea of what they are planning–we aren’t even sure of their goals. If this device of Chief Hadron’s works, there are bound to be changes in what they intend. Since we didn’t know what they intended anyway, they’ll surprise us.”

He sat down on their bed and pulled his boots off. “This will be a big year for payments to the treasury for farms.” It was the second time the every-other year payments for farms granted to the soldiers by the High King to the soldiers in Mexico. There had been a lot of men who’d rushed to take advantage of the High King’s offer; there had been far fewer the next year. As a result income was a bit lopsided in alternating years.

“We were going to invest that income in steel from the High King’s mines. We were going to build a steam puller line from Xipototec to Tecpan, and then on to Zacateca and Zimapan. The High King is building a line south from Princeton, towards Zimapan.”

Tuck nodded. “And we still are. We were planning on running two trains a day; now we will have to be satisfied with one for another year or two. Instead, we will build three new forts...one half way to Tecpan and the others between Tecpan and Zacateca and then halfway to Zimapan. They’ll be on the steam puller line. We’ll time the fort construction to match the completion date of the rail line. We’ll put half of our soldiers in the one towards Tecpan; Judy can put half of hers out towards Zimapan. I’m sure the High King will agree to build a fort or two himself between Zimapan and Princeton.”

“That is a good idea, Tuck. We can work on that other project we want to get started.”

Tuck grinned and the two were soon far, far away from discussions of military import. She had been a little unhappy that he had staked a claim for Mexico on a valley not far from where her village of Mogdai had been located. Still, it was in an area where village claims could be made, and he’d made one.

“Minerals, Tuck? Please don’t tell me there are minerals there.”

“There are no minerals there.”

“Then why are we claiming it?”

“Because, my dear wife, for a long time to come, the ability to feed ourselves, and have things left over to sell, will be critical to our development.”

“There is a river there, I grant you, but most of the year it’s a trickle.”

“That is because you can’t see underground.”

“And you can?”

“My people could. I lived there, Tanda. I lived there. It wasn’t generally known; most of my people didn’t care about such things. But the valley there is more than it seems.” He held his hand out, curling his fingers upwards. “What you see is a third of the true valley. Maybe just a quarter. Deep down, there is very dense rock; water doesn’t flow through it at all well.

“Above that is a very porous layer of rock. Like a sponge. On top of that is thousands of feet of sand, broken rock and little else; there is only a thin skein of soil, and then not everywhere. It will be quite a job to clear farmland.”

“But the land can be cleared, Tanda. And those thousands of feet of sand and loose rock are filled with water. It is like a lake thousands of feet deep, just sitting there.

“We can drill wind-powered wells that will get things started. We can use steam engines to drill deeper wells, and pump even more water. We can build dams along the rivers there, those dams will provide other kinds of power, but more importantly, they’ll supply more water to irrigate crops. Mogdai would bloom like Old Man and the rest of the village never dreamed.”

“I suppose you think it primitive superstition that I find so much in common with them?”

“Anything but,” he told her. “You lived with these people. You shared their lives; you shared bread.”

“We shared meat,” she amended.

“You did that. Tanda Havra! Kills-from-Behind! A clever, lucky hunter who could be relied on to bring something back from the hunt. Something to feed the hungry bellies of the others.”

She bowed her head. “It was so.”

“Now you will give them a tremendous legacy. They will be wealthy beyond their imagination! Crops that bloom most of the year! There is mineral wealth in the lands of the Lost Ruthani as well and far more than down towards the redoubt. Your people will be safe in their lands; the High King will not let them be stolen and I won’t let them be stolen.”

He lowered his voice. “The High King and I share a common history, Tanda. Our people stole everything from the Ruthani. We slaughtered them, and stole anything they had worth stealing, and when we found we’d missed something, we went back and took it as well. We justified it, such as we do, as we were more primitive back then, as were the Ruthani. It is a poor excuse and didn’t justify what was simple, blatant theft. The High King and I have no intentions of repeating those events here.” He made a face. “Not that the Zarthani and their descendants haven’t already stolen three quarters of the continent.”


	21. Caimondes

I

Caimondes looked up as General Haslem entered the control room.

“Is there any contact with any Outtime station as yet?” the general demanded.

“No, my Lord. Colonel Trans has ordered all tests stopped until we stop losing conveyors.”

“Those damnable Paracops have succeeded in shutting us off from Paratime!”

Caimondes shrugged. He had figured that out days ago. These university-trained men didn’t recognize objective reality until it bit them in the butt! Caimondes didn’t want to mention that generals could overrule colonels.

Caimondes had two friends who had, under orders, attempted transposition, even after it was obvious that it wasn’t possible. One friend was dead and the other was in Medical, recovering from burns over most of his body. Caimondes had decided long since that if he was asked to test a transposition, he would request permission to go pee–and then head for the hills. He realized he had only one chance in a million of getting far enough away that they couldn’t find him–but a chance in a million was a lot better than dead cert, which he figured his odds were testing transpositions.

He didn’t see General Haslem’s expression, but he heard his words. “Four hundred and seventeen men, thirty-three Outtime drudges. A man has got to do what he has to do to survive.”

Caimondes was out of his seat before the general finished his second sentence and thus the bolt missed by a considerable distance. Caimondes had long fancied himself as a quick draw expert, and it turned out that he was more expert than the general. In fact, it hadn’t even been close. Caimondes disarmed the fallen officer and laughed when he did.

The man had a stunner! If you didn’t want to leave witnesses behind to tell of your perfidy, a stunner was the worst choice. On the other hand, Caimondes slug thrower meant he could always apologize later to the general’s recarnated persona, assuming the general stayed stayed close to where he had ended. Caimondes thought that would be assuming a very great deal, because he was intent now on putting as much distance as he could from these people.

Outside, he saw another friend, an Outtimer. “Haslem has shot himself; now it’s every man for himself,” he told the fellow.

With that, he walked fast, not stopping for anything. He had placed a bug-out bag a few miles from Becal, hidden in a pile of rocks that had been gathered over the years from the fields. Shouldering it, he hustled for as long as he could, more than two palm widths.

He was halfway up the nearby hills when he had to rest. He sat down and for the first time in a while, contemplating the city he had just left. There were now four tall spires of smoke inside the walls, and when his breathing settled, he could, very faintly, hear the rattle of rifle fire and once or twice the ripping cloth of the new weapons. Twice in the finger width he watched, he heard sharp barks of explosions, and a fifth spire of pitch black smoke started to rise.

That brought Caimondes up and moving again. He had to go slow, but Becal was splitting asunder. And very soon now, refugees would appear and if he wanted to be alive tomorrow and the days after, he had to stay ahead of them.

He reached the top of the ridge and started down. He’d gotten only a few steps when he tripped, sprawling full length on the ground. He was shaken, but appeared unhurt. Except when he tried to stand, he felt a knife against his back.

“In a hurry, man of Becal?”

“Yes. There is trouble in Becal.”

The man he couldn’t see laughed. “A God-King who doesn’t show his face is no God-King.”

“That statement would take you on a journey to the pyramid,” Caimondes said, mentally crossing his fingers.

The man chuckled again. “Could, not would. Would, for certain, if I was caught, but then I’m Countess Judy’s man, from the Special Intelligence Unit. I expect you have heard of us?”

Caimondes froze. He was from the Control Center; he didn’t have more than cursory conditioning. He’d been aware for a long time that he could think thoughts that should have been impossible. “And I was an operator at the headquarters of the masters of Becal. Countess Judy would pay a good many Kalvans to hear my story. And I won’t die before I can talk.”

“What’s in the bag?”

“Water, supplies. I left in a tearing hurry. The city is revolting against its masters. There is no God-King and there hasn’t been for a long time. The pretender is really, Lomax, a Styphoni.”

The fellow was persistent. “Any weapons in the bag?”

“Such as I would have never lived long enough to climb the pyramid if I’d been found with any weapon more deadly than a belt knife.” It was a futile hope; the man would have been a total fool to believe Caimondes, and the man didn’t sound like a fool.

“I will ask again, then search. If I find a weapon, you will die here and now.”

“There is a pistol,” Caimondes admitted. “A foreign pistol.”

“Lucky you, I’ll just carry your bag. Stand up, so I can search you.”

The other skillfully searched him, including looking over his boots. Caimondes grew impatient. “How many fires are burning now in the city?”

“A dozen.”

“Please...shortly thousands of people will be fleeing the city. Most will head to the mostly empty city Huspai, a few of the braver to Xipopotec. Only a very few will head towards Tecpan.

“Take me to your countess. She will reward you greatly.”

“Well, I’ll take you to those who will take you to the countess. Then I will return here.”

“It will be dangerous.”

The man who Caimondes had yet to see laughed a third time. “I am of the Special Intelligence Unit!”

Still, they hustled down the back side of the ridge, then across the flats to the next hills. They didn’t stop there, but crossed to the next ridgeline, somewhat higher hills.

There were three men hiding in a thicket–at least those that Caimondes could see. “This is a prisoner for the countess,” the man with Caimondes said to the other men. “He says he has valuable intelligence. Becal is evidently revolting–there are many fires inside the walls. As Countess Judy is fond of saying–most fires are caused by men. There will be many refugees, mostly going up to Huspai.”

“I’ll take him,” one of the new men said.

They had gone only a mile, when the new man put his hand on Caimondes’ arm. “I am Huertic, a soldier of the High King, and above all, Countess Judy. I watched my children die of the plague. My wife hurled herself off our apartment building in Tenosh, but I was too weak to follow her. I hate the God-King and all of his ilk. If you try to escape, you will need to kill me first because if you don’t, on that day I will kill you.”

“Huertic, I was one of those employed by the masters in Becal. I was nothing to them–just one more man to be tossed aside on a whim. I’ve watched friends sacrificed for no rational reason. I was a leaf in a freshet. I could no more object than I could fly. One day, today! Today! I saw my chance and ran.”

“Remember, man of Becal...run from me, and I’ll kill you!”

Six days later they were approaching Tecpan. They had brought up a horse for Caimondes, otherwise Caimondes would have been dead with exhaustion. He was blindfolded and his horse led for the last few miles.

II

Caimondes knew he was in a building, even before they took the blindfold off.

He faced two young women, with a dozen guards visible.

“Well, you say you have something for me,” one of the two women said.

“This is for the countess’ ears only, miss.”

“Am I not a countess?” the other asked, her voice rough. “I understand that Becal was burning when you left?”

“No. There were a number of fires, certainly. But the town wasn’t burning. If you are really the Countess, I understand you have heard of JFK.”

As he had known it would, it caused minor consternation. “Everyone but Lady Lydia and my husband, out!”

Caimondes filed away the precedence in his head; of course, there was no one with white hair present and Countess Judy’s husband was a famous white hair.

Caimondes had rehearsed several times in his mind what he was going to say.

“There were those who supported Styphon even before the advent of a man named Kalvan...” Caimondes started. It took Caimondes more than two palm widths to finish.

At the end he said calmly, “They will kill me. There is nothing you or I can do about it. They have listening devices everywhere, and they will know I talked to you of forbidden things. Are you aware that the Paracops have left?”

“Yes,” Judy said.

“The bosses are terrified. Whatever they were expecting, this wasn’t it. I’ve heard that their flying machines are all broken, and they are limited to native vehicles.”

“What about other kingdoms on the planet?” Lydia asked.

“Nihon has developed as you would expect: samurai and bushido. They don’t have fireseed weapons, but they do have fireseed. They use it like the Heavenly Kingdom does for fireworks. The Heavenly Kingdom rises and falls every three or four hundred years. The rest of the eastern landmass is a snakepit of barbarians and the occasional civilized town. That runs halfway around the world. The southern landmasses are occupied by even more primitives peoples, none of whom have fireseed, and many are cannibals.

“The bosses like that–a rich source of slaves, with no weapons of any sophistication. Nihon and the Heavenly Kingdom are the brightest of the lot.”

“Who was responsible for the plague?” Judy asked. “Was it your bosses?”

“No, it was a side effect of the slave trade. There are natives in the southern landmass across the Eastern Ocean. The natives send plague carriers to anyone who they discover. In a few years, they come again and the reap the survivors.

“But, the bosses were not blameless. They found about it after the plague had hit, and they rushed medicine from Home Time Line, enough to treat about three million people. Then they let the deaths happen and were encouraged that there were so many deaths. Their plan is to reduce this continent to a howling wilderness like most of the rest of the world. First, they want to show off to the Paracops how powerful they are, and secondly because scattered survivors are easy meat for slavers.

“It’s all about slavery. They sell tens of millions of slaves, across the timelines. The amount of money they take in is staggering. Maybe better to say it’s all about the money, but they surely get aroused by the power trip. Putting their boots on other people’s necks and pressing them into the dirt.”

“There is not time to do more than a cursory attempt to verify what you have told us,” Lydia said. “I will have two of the Special Intelligence Unit go with you to a place they know. I doubt if your bosses care about such as them. Only I and they will know where you are. I will do my best to keep you alive, until we can confirm more of this.”

It took a half palm width before Caimondes was on his way. Lydia didn’t even tell Judy where he was going. “He is with two of the Lost Ruthani,” she said to Judy. “Susie and Billy.”

“Excuse me? Susie and Billy?” Judy queried.

“They are twins. They wanted names like those I know, to stand out from everyone else. I picked the names, but Tuck laughed when he heard. I had completely forgotten what his real name was. When Billy found out, he grew ten feet overnight and his sister was jealous, so I made up a story that Tuck’s sister is named ‘Susie.’ I have had a dozen requests for names since then. Jimmy, Timmy, Tommie, Janie...”

“Aie!” Judy exclaimed.

Lydia grinned. “I explained the original names, but they all want the diminutives.”

“It still begs the question, what do we do?” Judy continued.

“It’s easy to say we should just sit here and let them kill each other. It would be crazy to think that we have the only ones of the new weapons,” Lydia explained. “But we have some and they have some and odds are, they didn’t lay in enough ammunition.

“I’ve been learning from Gamelin and Andromoth about soldiering,” Lydia said.

“Hmmmph! Andromoth just wants in your pants!” Judy said with a poker face.

“Maybe. There is something they teach in the High King’s Academy for officers, called ‘advance to contact.’ You move your forces forward, until you meet opposition, evaluate it, and decide whether or not to continue forward,” Lydia explained.

“Get the regulars moving, send to Tuck and Cambon what you are doing and give a meet point. Update them if you can go further than you expected to. Call out the militia to defend the city. We have a moon left before the third harvest, we can afford to have a call up for most of that time. In a moon, we may have decided things.”

“Right now? Without warning?” Judy asked.

“Yes, Judy. We elaborately orchestrated the ambush this spring, giving plenty of warning that we were going to move, that let them have plenty of time to prepare. Worked like a charm! How would you like to surprise them? Really surprise them?”

Judy turned and faced one of the walls. “I assume you have an opinion, my husband.”

It took many heartbeats before Gamelin joined the two women.

“Advance to contact is when you have as many troops as the enemy and can afford a stalemate, until your reserves come up,” Gamelin said. “Great Galzar! Having Tuck, Xyl and Hestophes as your reserve!” He stopped talking for a moment.

“It would have to be most carefully done. The best scouting, ever. There is no guarantee that the Army of Becal has disintegrated. As Denethon showed us, an inspired leader can make all the difference. We will have to be ready to withdraw if the resistance stiffens too much. But it is possible that there will be none. My Countess, we should get the men moving by tomorrow morning.”

Judy inclined her head. “And you, my husband, where will you be?”

“By your leave, the Tecpan Mounted Rifles will lead, followed by the Heavy Weapons Company, then the Special Intelligence Unit. You should lead the Special Intelligence Unit, with me at your side.”

“As long as you are at my side, not a step ahead or a step behind.”

“As you wish, my lady!”

Gamelin turned to Lydia. “If you would, alerting messages for Tuck, Xyl and Hestophes, then ask General Andromoth to report.”

“Done and done!” Lydia said, all but running out of the room.

*** ** ***

Judy and her escort drew up about a mile from the walls of Becal and she contemplated what she could see. Her army was preoccupied with the prisoners they had taken, but enough of them were ready to advance to give some of the junior officers gas because they wanted to hurry forward, which Judy was countermanding.

There was a clatter of hooves and Tuck and Tanda Havra appeared at her side.

Judy reported, “We have met only a few with the foreign weapons. My men have been careful and I have had few losses–mostly a marksman shoots the bugger while he is still shooting at the sky.”

Tuck laughed harshly. “It’s called pray and spray. Getting it backwards means you are dead.”

“We have met no significant resistance up to now, and we still haven’t met any,” Judy told him.

“Pull back,” Tuck said. “Cambon will be here in less than a moon quarter. Remember North Port! Another half moon after that and Hestophes will arrive.”

Judy nodded. “I have not been eager to press ahead. It has been too easy.”

“And let that be a warning to you about ‘too easy.’” Tuck told her. “These are snakes in the grass, incredibly dangerous men, who don’t care about the hurt others suffer. They will strike regardless of their situation, just to kill you.”

Judy nodded absently, while she continued to observe the city. “My scouts report sporadic gunfire, but the initial fires have been put out, and no one seems in a hurry to start more.”

She motioned to a spot a short distance away. “I owe you an explanation.”

They rode over to a patch of sparse shade beneath a palo verde tree. “We heard about fires in Becal, then we got your message that you are advancing to contact,” Tuck said.

Judy explained about Caimondes. When she finished she said at the end, “So, I decided that this might be the opening we had hoped for. I moved cautiously and scouted heavily. We had to slow down even more, because as near as I can tell the town is nearly empty. There were a half million there originally, then they were augmented by a full million soldiers from the Heartlands. Another three quarter of a million were added after the plague. There are something like two and half million people out here in the desert.

“Thousands have died, mostly from thirst but while they are immune to the plague, they suffer from poor sanitation so nearly everyone has the runs. There is little food, and the water is mostly contaminated. Half of my army is working on rough shelters to get people out of the sun. I have ordered up every water barrel and water wagon in my army.

“The soldiers we have captured are, for the most part, demoralized. Few of them have their weapons or any of their equipment.

“This is shaping up to be a rerun of the plague. A different cause, but the same effect,” she concluded.

Tuck digested that. “Well, we will have to do what we can for them, won’t we?”

“There is no time to get approval from the High King,” Tanda interjected.

Judy glared at Tanda. “We should help, anyway. Every finger width we delay, more will die.”

There was another clatter of hooves and the sounds of a wagon, driven very fast. Tuck craned around and said, “Great Galzar! The heirloom coach!”

The others all laughed, and the carriage pulled up in huge swirls of dust.

After a moment three men emerged from the dust. General Cambon, Colonel Legios, and the real surprise, Grand Marshal Hestophes of the High King’s army.

“My respect for my sister was never small, but riding in her coach gives added evidence of how tough she is,” Cambon exclaimed. He craned to look at Becal.

The Grand Marshal Hestophes looked grim. “Never again! I’ll take a perfectly normal horse to return on! A steam puller! Anything but that damn coach!”

Colonel Legios was serious. “We stopped a few times, asking questions. How many have run?”

“Nearly all,” Judy said.

“All? That’s more than two million!” Cambon cried out in anguish.

“I have tried to organize food and water. Hopefully not many more will perish of thirst,” Judy told Cambon. “Almost immediately, food will be a problem as well. I have ordered everything we can possibly spare from Tecpan, but with so many...” her voice trailed off into silence.

“Xipopotec will send everything we can as well,” Tuck said.

Cambon coughed. “We have been gathering supplies to send to King Freidal for what we used in Zarthan this summer. I don’t know how we can avoid fulfilling our promise to him.”

“Don’t be daft,” Tuck spoke. “He owes you, not the other way around. If your men hadn’t interposed themselves between the God-King’s soldiers and South Port he’d have lost the third largest town of his kingdom. And if they had won at South Port, what would have happened at South March? Losing two of his top ten towns and half or more of his army would have crippled Zarthan.

“In my kingdom, my king frequently forgives debts of valued allies, and pays the creditors out of his own pocket,” Tuck concluded.

“We made an agreement,” Cambon said obstinately.

“And if one party to the agreement says you don’t have to pay them back...ever? Or delay a year? What then?” Judy joined the discussion. She waved at the city. “Tuck said it. We are afraid they have mined the town. It’s too big to do like what they did at North Port, but they could destroy the wells or something else as diabolical.”

“Even we at Zimapan know what happened in North Port,” the Grand Marshal spoke. “I have the ability to speak for the High King concerning the military affairs of Mexico. As has been made clear to me, Duke Tuck speaks for him for the political affairs of Mexico, and Countess Judy is the heart and soul of the people of Mexico.

“If Freidal won’t allow King Xyl an extension of the terms of their agreement, in the High King’s name, I will assume the debt on behalf of the High King, if Duke Tuck concurs.”

“I concur in the name of the Duchy of Mexico,” Tuck said formally.

“Me too!” Judy exclaimed.

The Grand Marshal looked at General Cambon. “There is no honor in refusing a gift, freely given, from a friend.”

There were tears in the general’s eyes. “We were willing to help an ally defend themselves from an attack from those who almost certainly organized the plague. You warned us that we might take grievous losses in stopping them, but our soldiers flew across the distance as if they were birds in order to do battle with the men who had destroyed our people!

“We had a good plan, good execution and we triumphed without losing very many men.

“And this was just the latest that you have helped us, without regard to your interests!”

Duke Tuck laughed. “It was never in our best interest to let what happened occur. There is nothing to gain by kicking an enemy when he is down: he’ll get back up and remember the low blow. My king, where we are from, has allied himself with those who challenged our independence and were defeated by us, and time has proved that we are far better friends than enemies. After their defeat they have realized this and now are fervent allies, but they retained their independence.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ends the third book of the series.
> 
> It is my intention to finish the fourth and final book by the end of 2017...
> 
> Gina Marie Wylie


End file.
